


Restoration

by Eclair_Designs



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Romance, Torture, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 117,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclair_Designs/pseuds/Eclair_Designs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing for over two years, Alexis McKay manages to escape from her abusive captors only to find she’s not in a world she was once in. Confused and afraid, Rick decides to help her, partly to atone his earlier inability to save Lori and helps her adapt to her new life.</p><p>As Rick and Alexis’s relationship deepens and she begins to believe her life has meaning once again, old faces begin to reappear, forcing her to face her horrid past face on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is rated M for rape, abuse and future lemons. I’ll warn you right now, this first chapter contains rape. Please review/favorite/like!

Chapter 1: Escape

Dull pain greeted her as she slipped back into wakefulness. She opened her eyes to find herself strung to the roof by her hands, completely vulnerable

She looked across from her to find Sarah on the opposite side of the room, lying on her back among the disheveled sheets of the dirty old mattress in the room, staring vacantly at the ceiling.

The bound woman heard the sound of the door opening and shifted her eyes to the side to see one of her captors enter the room.

The man at her side chuckled.

"Awake already?" he mused, his voice smooth and rich as ever. He then turned and took a quick glance at Sarah. “Looks like the dumb broad finally bit the dust. I guess she couldn’t handle all of the abuse.” 

"Bastard," she croaked, her tongue feeling thick and dry inside her mouth.

He only seemed amused by her insult, smirking as he reached out to run fingers through her disheveled blonde strands.

Without warning, he hauled her forward into a rough kiss. He suckled at her lips before pushing his tongue past them, violating her mouth while she was unable to push him away. With no other way to defend herself, she did all she could. She summoned her strength and bit him hard.

The bite wasn't enough to draw blood, but it was enough to make her assailant grunt in pain and pull away, but instead of anger, he only continued to look at her with amusement.

"So much spirit," he chuckled. "No wonder the boss loves you so much. He likes watching the strong ones break down."

She hung her head low and listened to the man brutalized her without even using a weapon. His words were enough. Just then he turned to the table in the room and reached for the whip he had made himself out of rope and rubber. When she saw it she began thrashing which only made her arms hurt worse. She grew frightened when he stepped behind her. This was it. She knew what was next.

With one loud crack he whipped her, leaving three long gashes on her back.He smirked as she screamed in sheer, unadulterated agony. She could feel nothing but pain. The gashes were red and inflamed. He pulled back the whip again, cracking it a second time. Blood poured from her wounds and she could only cry as he continuously whipped her, until her entire back became unrecognizable.

He placed the whip back onto the table and stood in front of her. Her captor’s hand fell to her breast, running over it softly before traveling down her stomach to the waistband of her panties and pulled them down on one side until her sex was revealed.

"Oh yeah," he practically growled, clearly approving of the sight before him.

He licked his thick lips in a way that made her shudder. His lustful eyes were fixed on her pale and bruised flesh as he brought his hand to her opening and inserted a single finger into the place he had forcibly abused several times.

She whimpered as she felt him slide inside her. She squirmed, desperate for him to remove his invading digit.

"What’s the matter, baby?" He growled, pumping his finger in and out of her slowly, making sure she noticed how he easy it was for him to violate her any way he wanted. "Are you not enjoying this as much as I am?”

He inserted a second digit and sped up his ministrations, smirking as she submitted to him completely as she realized it was futile to resist him in her current situation.

"Good girl," he praised, withdrawing his fingers.

Rising panic filled the woman’s already frantic mind as he stepped back, discarding his jacket and pulling the shirt he wore underneath over his head. His body was well sculpted, powerful muscles flexing beneath pale, scared skin. His hand went to the fly of his pants and her mouth went dry.

His pants dropped to the floor, revealing his erect member which he slowly pumped in his hand. He wasn't as long as the other men but he made up for it in girth, and it hurt. He came at her with his knife and in one swift motion he cut through the rope. She fell to the ground, limply becoming surrounded by her own blood.

As he took her by her tangled blonde locks, she grasped the cold dirt beneath her and threw it into her captor’s face, blinding him for a moment. 

She sprang up from the position she was in and legged it in the direction of the door. She had gotten to the door and was in the process of yanking it open when he launched himself at her in a diving tackle.

She fell heavily onto the floor and with the additional weight of the man on top of her, all the air was knocked out her lungs. “Get off of me!” She screamed. “Let me out of here!”

She tried to fight him off with all the energy she could muster, but it was no use. He climbed off her, picking her up as he began to stand and threw her down in the middle of the room.

She looked back up at him and saw the intense anger in his eyes. He truly looked like he was going to kill her at any given point. "I fucking warned you once not to try anything,” He growled.

Through her sobbing she tried to tell him that she was sorry, but he cut her off, telling her not to apologize to him.

He tangled one his hands into her hair and pushed her down hard onto the cold dirt floor. “I’m going to teach you who’s dominate around here.”

“No!” She screamed, still containing the will to fight. She mustered as much as strength as she could to push him off of her, but it was futile.

Her screams could be heard throughout the entire house. The anguish and fear in her voice was unmistakable. He flipped her onto her back, straddling her hips as she clawed furiously at the man who was about to rape her. She shrieked as his nails dug deeply into her hips as he thrusted himself within her, her voice sputtering out to gasping sobs, in rhythm with his pounding.

He grabbed her by her wrists as she tried to fight him off. She was weak and had severe malnutrition. The fight was a short and feeble one. Her sobs trailed off into pained whimpers as the man continued his movements. She turned her head and opened her eyes, her shamed and hopeless gaze flitting over to Sarah.

Her eyes widen at the sight. On the ground, Sarah began to stir, deep breaths growing from deep within her. Her hands and arms begin to twitching on the mattress. She was dead, wasn’t she? But how?

Her captor was too preoccupied with what he was doing to realize what was happening. “Sarah?” She whimpered.

Sarah opened her eyes, which, though always blue, were now suddenly an icy cool grey-blue, the pupils gone. Her eyes were bloodshot and she began to moan and paw at the air. She reached for her and her captor, grabbing at the ground as she began to pull herself up, growling.

She let out a shaky breath. Something was wrong, very wrong. She tried to push him away as Sarah began to stalk closer but he only thrusted harder, palms pressed to the ground on either side of her body, caging her in. “No,” She gasped. “No! Get off!”

With an animalistic growl, he plunged into her several more times until he finished. Instantly, his vision was awash in white as released himself deep inside of her. As Sarah stood over them, her jaw opened wide their captor opened his eyes.

“Oh, fuck!” He yelled, withdrawing right as Sarah was about to attack him. As he scurried for his knife she took the momentary freedom and made a run for it. She grabbed her panties off from the floor and bolted out the door, shutting the heavy door and making sure to lock it behind her.

She glanced around the room frantically until her eyes landed on the china cabinet sitting beside the door. She pushed the heavy wooden cabinet in front of the door, ignoring the man’s angry screams demanding to be set free.

With shaky hands, she slipped on her panties and crossed her arms over her bare breasts defensively to hide herself. She stumbled into the living room and out the front door that reeked of rotting flesh, causing her to choke on the smell.

As her eyes adjust to the sunlight she lumbers down the stairs and sees decayed rancid, fly-covered bodies in piles but what caught her attention was a ravaged body of a woman that used to be a captive in the house. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing and backs away, confused and afraid.

She gasped as she heard a loud crash coming from inside the house and ran towards the grassy field that led to the woods. Furious, the captor threw the front door open just as a military vehicle pulled up.

“The fucking bitch escaped,” He told the others. “She’s heading towards the woods.”

Two men wearing camouflage, army boots, and holding automatic rifles. Their leader sat in the driver’s side and glanced up at the guard furiously. He threw the door open and reached for his rifle inside. He peered through the scope. And that’s when he saw her. She was right in the open. He adjusted his scope before pulling the trigger, smirking as she landed hard onto the ground. “There. She won’t get very far in her condition, especially with those things walking around.” He said with a smirk. “Bring her to me. I’ll deal with her myself when she returns. Go! “

The men nodded and sped off. 

She ran fast as her body could carry her, ignoring the burning in the muscles of her legs as the tall grass on either side of her flew by in blurs of brown and green. Next thing she knew pain shot through her right shoulder. She cried out in pain as she fell to the ground like a ton of bricks. Her hand flew up to the wound, as she tried to slow the bleeding. The blood was hot as it trickled through her fingers.

The pain was unbearable and she was starting to feel nauseous. Everything around her was starting to spin and things were beginning to get blurry. A pained cry escaped her lips as she managed to pull herself up on her knees, ready to crawl towards the woods.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

The branches tore at her arms, the jagged rocks dug into her feet, her lungs screamed in pain as she gasped for breath. How long had she been running? It could’ve been hours; it could’ve been months. She had no idea where she was, all she knew was that she wasn’t going back to that horrid basement ever again.

Eventually she came to a paved road and noticed a person wandering down the road, “Help!” She screamed. “Please, help me!”

The person slowly turned around and staggered in her direction. Tears of relief escaped from beneath her eye lashes, cutting wet trails down her cheeks as she stumbled towards her savior. As her savior closed in on her, it took her a moment to realize that whoever she was staring at was defiantly beyond normal.

A mutilated man, badly decayed, his right arm, nose and lips missing-reached for her, pathetically moaning in hunger. Terrified, she stumbled back and fell over.

“Jesus,” She gasped, regaining herself a moment later, turned around, and hastily ran away.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

There was a pain in her left foot. At least that’s where it started every time she took a step. A dull, throbbing ache pounding across her sole, it pulsed a few times, then traveled up through her ankle to her calf on its way to her knee, where it knocked around for a bit before traveling up through her thigh. It stopped only when she lifted her foot. That’s when it started on the other side.

Though, she had plenty of more pressing issues to worry about. There was something about the prospect of imminent murder at the hands of insane rapists, decayed and mutilated people to keep you from thinking about being lost in the middle of nowhere.

She fought to keep these thoughts out of her mind, but it was getting harder and harder. The searing pain in her shoulder, back, feet and legs was keeping her anchored to reality.

She glanced over her shoulder, noting whatever or whoever was following her was a small ways behind her, giving her a chance to stop for a brief moment and catch her breath.

She took a step forward and felt the pain run up her leg, causing her to fall down. “No,” She said. “Not now, please no.”

She whipped her head around when she heard the growling coming closer. Clenching her jaw, she used her left hand to support her body and finally managed to stand up. She took a shaky step testing her leg, but fell once again. She was trapped. There was nothing more she could do. Tears of disappointment and anger ran down her cheeks. Her freedom was slipping away and her body was in no shape to run anywhere, or even crawl. She tried desperately to figure out how she was going to get out of this predicament

She screamed as she looked up and realized the dire situation. As it reached towards her, as though for love and leapt at her with jaws wide open. She rolled to her side, but was brought to a sharp halt as a needle like stab went through her entire body. She cried out in pain as she was violently slammed down to the ground.

She placed a hand on its face to keep it away as its jaws snapped at her hungrily. She scrabbled around at the ground for a weapon. She came up with a stone the size and weight of a brick. It would do. She would never forget the tingling sensation from the shock of the rock as it slammed into its head. She dropped the rock onto the ground as it sprawled out over the paved road.

Sobbing on the road, she called for help, questioning if any of this was real or if she’s dreaming. On the ground, it began to stir. It reached for her, grabbing at the ground as it began to pull himself up, growling.

At the same time she hears engines rumble in the distance; a man riding a motorcycle, followed by a silver truck pulling up. The passenger side door of the truck flew open. A fairly tall Caucasian man with a slim figure with dark brown and wavy hair wearing black pants, cowboy boots and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up burst out.

“Daryl, take out the walker.” He commanded.

Her gaze shifted to the man named Daryl. A slim built Caucasian man with brown hair and facial hair on his lip and chin, wielding a crossbow. He trained his crossbow on the ‘walker’ and fired an arrow into its head, taking it out in one swift blow.

“Hey,” He said gently, walking towards where she still sat on the paved road. "It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

He opened his arms to comfort her, but she was suddenly backing away, scrambling to avoid him.

Her hands came up to cross over her breasts defensively to hide herself, the thought of being touched by a man suddenly made her panic, but she instinctually knew she had to get away before something bad happened, before she was hurt.

“No,” She wept. “Please no, just leave me alone. I don’t want to go back, please don’t take me back there.”

He let his arms drop to his sides as she made it clear she didn’t want to be touched.

“Rick,” A male in his early twenties with black hair and a light complexion said as he tossed him a blanket which he easily caught.

“It’s okay,” He soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She glanced fearfully at the gun in his hands. If Rick wanted to earn her trust, he knew what he needed to do.

“It’s okay. Here” He said quickly tossing the gun onto the ground.

With little energy she had left, she leapt for the gun only for him to wrap his arms around her waist, foiling her plan. “No, don’t.” He said. “Don’t. Stop. No.”

She continued to write in his arms until she exhausted what energy she had left, Her eyes drifted shut as she lost consciousness, her last thoughts of being taken back to the place she feared most as tears escaped from beneath her eyelashes, cutting wet trails down her cheeks as she succumbed entirely to the darkness. 

Rick breathed out a heavy sigh as he gathered the woman’s unconscious form into his arms, draping the blanket over her. He stared hard at her. He recognized this woman from somewhere, but where?

“Well,” Daryl said. “What do you want to do?”

And that’s when it hit Rick. He remembered exactly where he saw this woman; on a missing person’s bulletin he posted up on the board of the King County Sheriff’s Office months before the world went to shit. “I know this woman.” Rick said, turning his head towards Daryl and Glenn. “She’s been missing for over two years.”


	2. Chapter 2

Anger overcame him, overlaying a red film across his vision until everything appeared in shades of crimson. The leader slammed the balding man against the wall. His hand was around his thick throat before he could do as much as gasp in surprise.

"You fucking moron," Their leader seethed, his eyes ablaze with black fire. "You’re telling me that a wounded, half dead, malnourished and dehydrated skinny little bitch just happened to out run your fat ass. And to make matters worse, you let my greatest prize fall into the hands of other survivors!”

The leaders hand tightened around the guard’s windpipe as his dark eyes narrowed. The guard was trembling, a greasy film of sweat developing on his face.

"I’ll bring her back. I swear." he sniveled.

The leader growled in rage, hauling the man forward only to slam him back against the wall.

"Now how are you going to go and do that?” He snarled, his voice low and dark with anger. "We don’t even know where they took her!”

"I’m sorry!" The guard screamed, resolve crumbling as fear consumed him. "Yeah, she is gone, but it wasn't my fault. It was him!” He jutted his chin in the other guard’s direction. “Ivan’s the one who lost her to begin with, so you shouldn’t be punishing me.”

“Don’t put this all on me,” Ivan seethed. “I’m not the one who got carried away with one of the prisoners and just left her there to turn. You’ve gotten sloppy and I’m getting tired of being the one who has to clean up after your fucking mess.”

“Both of you shut up!” The leader snapped irritably.

“T-There’s more,” The guard stuttered. “One of the men knows her.”

The leader cocked his head to the side quizzically in an almost comical display, clearly surprised with the man’s words.

“What was that?” He said slowly.

“He’s seen her before,” The guard said. “I overheard him mentioning something about posting a flyer in King County. I think he was a cop or something.”

An amused smile slowly spread over the leader’s face, replacing his astonished expression.

“Interesting,” He chuckled. “What did this man happen to look like?”

“Caucasian, mid thirties, tall and slim with dark wavy hair,” He said. “Some Asian kid called him by the name of Rick.”

“Grimes!”

The leader’s smile widened. “I could’ve sworn that son of a bitch got shot,” He said. “Oh, this is just too good. Who would’ve guessed ol’ Rick Grimes would make it this far.”

“H-He also mentioned a prison,” The guard stammered. “I think maybe they might have taken her.” 

“And why did you wait till now to mention this?!” The leader growled, shaking him hard. "Did you happen to find this so called prison?”

He shrank further into the wall as if he hoped he could sink through it and escape the scathing stares fixed upon him.

"No," he whimpered.

The leader growled in frustration and drew his pistol and placed it under the guards chin, pulling the trigger. He straightened and smoothed a hand over his short hair as he walked away. As almost an afterthought, he looked over his shoulder.

“When Vasquez returns I want the two of you to find this so called prison,” He said. “I want confirmation that she’s indeed there. If so, send in Vasquez to retrieve her. He’s the only one she hasn’t seen face to face, she’ll never know what hit her.”

Ivan nodded mutely, signaling that he understood.

Without another word, the leader exited the room.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Carol rang the excess water from the washcloth into the large bowl and carefully wiped around the tender edges of the wounds on the unconscious woman’s back before reapplying fresh dressing.

Alexis McKay. That was her name, or least that’s what Rick remembered her by. It had been over a day since they brought her to the prison, and she still showed no signs of waking up. Carol’s heart ached for the woman. She herself knew what it was like to be a victim of abuse. But what she sustained from Ed wasn’t anything compared to what this woman had suffered. She could only imagine the demons that tormented her.

Carol pulled her clothes back in place and carefully rolled the woman onto her back when Rick walked through the door.

"Any changes?" he asked, breaking Carol out of her thoughts.

She peeled the dressing from her outer thigh, revealing a burn, the skin still blackened in some places and red and swollen in others. Carol knew a burn like this had to be extremely painful, especially when left untreated for so long. While her shoulder and back had been uninfected, her thigh was not so lucky. The skin was far too hot to the touch, and she could see how the wound was still oozing slightly, only now the liquid was yellowish and opaque.

“No,” Carol said with a sigh. “Her fever’s spiked. She needs to start on what’s left of the antibiotics soon or she’ll end up with sepsis.”

She stood up and dipped the cloth into the water, ringing the excess water out. As she turned around, she halted for a brief moment as she heard a soft murmur come from the makeshift bed. 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis awoke feeling groggy, disoriented, and slightly nauseous. Every inch of her body ached like crazy. Using all the strength she could muster, she forced her eyelids open.

She blinked owlishly, as her vision was blurry and the noise around her was slow.

A quick look around told her that she was no longer at that horrible place, but inside a large and rather unkempt looking building. Perhaps a prison would have been a better description of her location, for the drab foyer of concrete and peeling paint, and the windows barred.

“It’s okay,” The distorted voice said. “Don’t move. Everything will be okay.”

She could feel her pulse immediately quicken as the blurred forms advanced her slowly. However, the action seemed to cause Alexis to panic. She gasped and scrambled out of bed.

“Stop. It’s okay.” The voice reassured, “You’re okay.”

Carol held out a hand to help her get up, but she pushed her away. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she stumbled to feet, frantically trying to find a way around her captor’s. 

Rick took a step toward Alexis, holding out a hand to her. “It’s alright.”

Alexis back away, tears forming in her eyes. “Stay away from me.” She said. “Just let me out. I want to go home.”

“Okay. Okay.” Rick said calmly. “I’ll do that. But first I need you to calm down and listen. I need you to trust me.” 

“Right now, I don’t trust anyone.” She stepped back from him. Her back was up against the wall.

“And that’s understandable considering what you’ve been through,” Rick said. “But you can trust me. I’m not going to hurt you, no one here is. You have my word on that.”

She sniffled back a sob.

“How am I supposed to trust you?” She cried. “I don’t even know who you are!”

“My name is Rick Grimes,” He said. “I was a policeman for the Sheriff’s Department in King County.”

Her head was spinning and she found she could barely breathe as the words rolled off his tongue.

No. No. No!

“Come on, Alexis,” Rick said as gently as he could. He reached out and took her hand. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

Alexis’ head snapped towards the sound of the cell door opening to see one the men she encountered on the road enter the room.

“Easy, Rick.” Daryl said. Carol gasped her agreement.

Rick waved them back. He had this under control.

Slowly, calmly he took her other hand in his. “It’s all going be okay,” he said.

Alexis gazed up into his eyes, as he felt the impact of her knee meet his gut, knocking the air right out from his lungs. She was then waylaid by Daryl. She then began thrashing around in response, trying to somehow get out of his grasp.

“Calm down,” Daryl growled. “Stop fighting me.”

She screamed, pressing her foot against the wall and pushed back with all her strength. “Stop, damn it!” Daryl barked. “We’re not gonna hurt you.” 

Alexis was gasping and groaning hysterically as she tried to break herself from his grasp.

Daryl growled in frustration. The woman was far too hysterical to listen to a word they had to say.

Taking his dominant arm he wrapped it around the neck of the woman, his bicep pressed against one side of her neck and his forearm pressed against the other side. He applied pressure to both sides of the neck by squeezing his forearm and bicep together.

He grabbed the bicep of his free arm with his dominant hand, using his other hand to press the woman's head forward toward the elbow of his dominant arm, keeping her from being able to breathe.

Immediately he relaxed his hold as the woman went limp, but did not unlock his arms. He relaxed his hold enough to allow her to breathe again as they both sunk to the floor.

“Great job, Daryl,” Carol said irritably. “How do you expect her to trust us after that?”

“Hell if I know.” He said with a shrug as Carol resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Scooping her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing, Daryl carried her limp form back into the holding cage.

Rick reached into his back pocket. Pulling out a pair of handcuffs he grabbed Alexis’ wrist and handcuffed her to the metal pole as a precaution. 

“She doesn’t leave this cell for nothing.” Rick growled as he stormed out of the room, running fingers through his hair in frustration.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis awoke feeling stiff and sore. The wounds on her back and shoulder ached with every breath. As she moved her left arm to rub the sleep off from her eyes, she heard a loud clang and realized she only had limited mobility. She turned to look at her left hand. It was handcuffed to a pole.

Suddenly, Alexis knew she was not alone, the sound of footsteps stopping on the other side of the cell door.

The key turned and the metal door cracked open, wider, wider. And then there he was, a stool in hand, making his way towards her. All she could do is watch as he lowered himself into the simple, wooden stool beside her as he stared at her long and hard. For a long moment he said nothing, his expression neutral as she held her breath in trepidation. 

“I can remove those,” He finally said, jutting his chin in the direction of the handcuffs. “But I need your word that you won’t try to run from us again.”

Alexis shifted her eyes to his face, wondering what sort of game he was playing.

“And if I give you my word, do you promise to let me go?”

"In all good consciousness I can’t,” He said. “It’s not safe out there.”

The blonde haired woman lowered her gaze, not saying another word to her captor in front of her.

“I got you some antibiotics. You have a pretty serious fever. They’ll help bring that down.” Rick said as he reached for an orange prescription bottle and a bottle of water that were sitting on the metal bench. Her gaze shifted to the prescription bottle in his hand and then back to him. “I’m not trying to drug you, they really are just antibiotics.”

Alexis said nothing.

“You’re dehydrated,” He continued. “Can you drink?”

She slowly sat up, causing Rick to take a quick jerk towards her. “Easy.” He said.

Alexis scurried way from him.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Rick assured.

“Where am I?” She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“A safe place,” He replied. “Far from whoever did this to you.”

“You…know my name.” She said. 

“Yes,” Rick nodded. “You were Linden County’s District Attorney. Best I can figure, it’s been a little over two years since you went missing.”

“Is that all it’s been?” She said dejectedly, casting her eyes downwards to the disheveled sheets. She had lost track of how long she had been with those men, of how long they had been raping and torturing her.

“Alexis,” Rick said. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to see you get better.”

“Then why didn’t you take me to the hospital?” She asked, her throat tightening in irritation.

Rick stared at her quizzically for a moment before shaking his head.

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t.” She replied.

Rick gaped at her, blue eyes wide in disbelief.

“Because you saw what’s out there.” He said. “The Walkers? You were even attacked by one.”

The woman shook her head, sending blonde bangs into downcast eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” Rick said.

Hesitantly, she lifted her eyes to meet his.

“I was delusional,” She said. “I haven’t had anything to eat or drink in days.”

Rick's eyes grew wide with the revelation that her captors had concealed what had happened with the world from her.

“Your abductor, didn’t he mention what happened?” Rick asked. 

She felt tears begin to form in her eyes, but she blinked them back angrily.

“Please…just let me go.” She pleaded as she choked back the tears. “I have a family. A husband and a daughter, they need to know that I’m okay…that I’m alive. They need closure.”

“I don’t know how else to tell you this,” Rick said hesitantly. “There’s nothing left out there. There’s no Army, no Government, no hospitals, no police, no phones, no computers, it’s all gone.”

Her jaw clenched at his words and shook her head stubbornly; refusing to believe the words he spoke.

“You’re lying,” She growled as she faced away from him, running fingers through her hair in frustration.

“It’s the truth.” Rick said.

“So, what are you going to do with me?” She asked.

“Nothing.” He replied. 

For a moment, there was silence in the room, stillness so dense that they could feel it pressing down on them with suffocating weight until at last Alexis spoke, the worried tone clearly audible in her voice.

“Are you…going to rape me?” She said softly, voice wavering.

“Rape you? No.”

“Then what are you going to do?” She snapped, at least lifting her eyes to meet his pair.

“Nothing, I’m not gonna do anything.” He said, his voice a low growl of impatience and anxiety. He opened the pill bottle and pulled out a single pill. “Look, you can’t even think straight with a fever like that. You need to take these.”

She swatted the pill out of his hands. “I’m not taking anything,” She said. “I want to go home. Take these damn handcuffs off and let me out!”

Rick bent down to retrieve the pill and stared at her.

“I’m trying to help you,” Rick said.

“How are you helping me, you’re keeping me from my family!” She cried. “You’re no better than the monsters who kept me captive all this time.” 

Something inside Rick snapped as Alexis spoke those poisonous words. Rick felt his jaw clench in anger. Without thinking, the former Sheriff Deputy stepped forward, grabbed her roughly by the wrist.

“We saved your life,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “We brought you somewhere safe and gave you medical treatment. We could’ve just left you there for that walker to tear you into shreds. Or worse, let you fall back into the hands of those monsters.”

Alexis could see Rick’s eyes had hardened. The intensity of his stare was starting to frighten her, thoughts haunted by the men who had grabbed her the same way and she couldn't stop the tears from forming in her eyes.

Rick could see her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her body posture betrayed how dejected she felt. Her dismal expression evaporated his anger. He released her wrist and without another word, he walked out of the room and locked the door behind him with the loudest click she had ever heard. Alexis stood abruptly, pulling furiously against the handcuffs. 

“No, please, let me go!” She pleaded. “I can’t…I can’t go through it again, not again! Just…kill me now! Please!” Her last word extended into a howl of pain.

Overwhelmed by grief and exhaustion, she sank to her knees in the dim cell. The tears came all at once in a flood she could not control. Sobs wracked her body and sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet of her own cell. She cried and cried. Her throat felt tight and her eyes puffy. She could taste the salt of her tears and still they continued to flow. She cried until she felt empty inside, a mere shell, a husk of a person that would blow away in the breeze.

After a time she managed to get to her feet. She no longer felt like being conscious. She was just too overwhelmed and could no longer endure. She peeled back the covers, collapsed into bed and pulled them up over herself. Her last coherent thought was she hoped she could sleep and sleep and never wake up.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

“It’s a fucking miracle she ain’t dead,” Daryl said. “No one could go through something like that and have a life again.”

“People might be stronger than you think,” Hershel said. “Give her some time.”

Daryl nearly scoffed aloud. “Believe me, on this one, you’re wrong.” He said. “There ain’t no coming back from something like that.”

“Well, we need to do something,” Carol said. “We can’t just keep her locked up. It’s not fair.”

“Carol’s right,” Rick agreed. “She’s been through enough. I don’t see her as a threat to us or the prison.”

“Can we trust her?” Sasha asked. “She could be working alongside the Governor for all we know. This could all be just one big setup.”

Rick shook his head. “I doubt that. The look on her face told me she had no knowledge of what had happened.”He said. “I’ll take responsibility for her. If she causes a problem, it’s on me.”

“She escaped from her captor,” Glenn said, unable to remain silent any longer. “Surely he’ll come looking for her. You saw what he did to her. Who knows what else he’s capable of, for all we know-“

“For all we know, he may believe she’s dead.” Rick said.

“And if you’re wrong?” Tyreese asked.

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Rick replied. “In the mean time I’m going to give her what she wants. Maybe that will be the wake-up call she needs.” 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Rick inserted the key into the key hole and turned it to the left, unlocking the cell door. Alexis’ head snapped towards the sound and huddled in the corner of the bed. She swallowed nervously, momentarily frozen by fear as the slim man advanced slowly, followed by Daryl.

The two men exchanged looks before Rick removed the handcuffs and grabbed her free arm and pulled her to her feet. “Where are we going?” She whimpered, voice growing high and thin with panic. “Where are you taking me?”

“Quiet.” Rick ordered.

Rick stopped in front of the steel door. He reached out, fingers wrapping around the iron handle, and pulled the heavy door open. She winced at the sudden light, temporary blinded by the sun’s rays. As her eyes adjusted to the outside, her eyes scanned frantically at her surroundings. The Prison boasted three fences that surrounded the entire penitentiary, one main dirt road leading to the entrance as well as many guard towers around the perimeter.

She tried to pull away from him but he tightened his grip. “Come on, move.” Rick barked, pulling Alexis along roughly. 

She sniffled softly, finally raising her head to look at him with those captivating eyes and he could see she was confused and frightened by his behavior.

“Please…don’t.” She pleaded.

“Just move,” Rick said.

Tears fell from her eyes, cutting wet trails down her cheeks. “What are you going to do?”

“You’re free to go,” Rick said, releasing her arm then pointed outside the prison. “But before you do, you might want to reconsider before walking through those gates.”

Alexis turned her head in the direction where Rick was pointing. Her eyes went wide, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she could finally make the words come out.

“This can’t…is this real?"


	3. Chapter 3

“This can’t…is this real?” She said, as her gaze shifted to the decayed corpses roaming through the field aimlessly.

She screwed her eyes closed, praying that when she opened them again, this would turn out to be some terrible nightmare, but afraid if it was she’d wake up back in that horrible place. Steeling herself, Alexis took a deep breath and pulled open the prison gate, walking towards the prison yard.

“Where are you going?” Rick asked. “You won’t make it very far in your condition, especially with a fever like that. You’ll pass out before you even make it to wherever it is your going.”

Alexis shook her head brusquely. “I want to see,” She said, words punctuated by wheezing breaths.

Without another word, Rick and Daryl followed Alexis to the prison yard.

“W-what is this?” She stammered, absolutely clueless as to what she was seeing. 

“We call them walkers,” Rick said. 

“Vicious and hungry bastards,” Daryl said. “They’ll tear you to shreds in a matter of seconds if you let them. Whatever happens, don’t get bit.”

She swallowed hard. “And if a person gets bit by one of these ‘walkers’,” she said. “What happens to them?

“The infection spreads fast. Immediate amputation is the only reliable way to survive a walker bite on appendage, though if a walker’s bite occurs on the body itself, the likelihood of survival is extremely low.” Rick said.

The woman turned back around to the walkers before her

“So…it’s some type of disease.” She panted, her brow sweating from the pain of her injuries and the exertion of walking.

“Yeah, and we’re all infected.” Rick replied, nodding.

Slowly, she turned around to face Rick, not quite sure if she had actually heard him right.

“What do you mean we’re all infected?” Alexis said, practically spitting the last word.

“If I was to kill you, you come back as one of these things.” Daryl said. “It’s gonna happen to all of us.”

‘So I wasn’t just seeing things. Sarah did in fact come back to life.’ Alexis thought with a degree of annoyance but instead of verbalizing her thoughts she shifted her gaze once again to the roaming corpses outside the fence.

“As far as we can see, half of the population has been wiped out, probably more.” Rick said.

Half? Then what of William and Aubrey? Did they somehow miraculously make it out of this alive and are out there somewhere safe and away from all of this? Or were they among the people who were wiped out, fallen victim to these disease ridden things?

This could not be happening. This could not be happening.

Her breathing became heavy, for in her head her mind was conjuring up possible images that could accompany what she was seeing outside those gates and she didn’t like any of them.

Alexis’s heart clenched as the visions of their smiling faces filled her mind. She wouldn't get to feel William’s strong arms around her or listen to the steady beat of his heart. Aubrey in fact never had the chance to grow old, kiss a boy or to fall in love. She honestly didn't know whether to consider her freedom, her survival a blessing or a curse.

She had been able to spend a couple precious years with Aubrey after she was born where she was reminded what it was like not just to exist, but to truly live. However, now that she and William were both gone, the world was darker than it had ever been. She wished she could see them just one more time. Why were they being taken away from her when she finally managed to escape from her captor’s after so long?

After a long moment Rick decided to speak. “I know how it must sound.” He said. “And I know it’s a lot to take in but-“

Alexis let out a humorless chuckle, cutting him off.

“A lot?” She scoffed. “A lot is putting it mildly don’t you think? We’re living in a world where dead people come back to life! What of my husband, my daughter?! I don’t even-“

Her sentence remained unfinished as she staggered backwards a few steps. The several minutes of exerting herself while she had only just recovered was taking its toll and it left her weak and shaky.

Rick grabbed her arm to support her before she fell as he asked if she was all right, his voice laced with concern. She gasped and suddenly pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!” She said, “I just need a minute to-“

"You’re not waiting another minute,” Rick said sternly. “You’ve worked yourself too hard. You need to rest.” He turned to Daryl who had been watching their exchange casually. “Go on and head back to the prison. We’ll be right behind you.”

“You sure?” he said, cocking his head slightly as he stared at Alexis.

The former Sheriff’s Deputy gave a curt nod. Without another word, Daryl gave him a friendly pat on the arm before he left, leaving Rick and Alexis staring at each other. 

“How do I know you’re not like those men?” She said, quietly as she twisted her fingers together nervously. 

“You don’t,” he said after a thoughtful pause, trying to conjure up the right words that wouldn't frighten her. "It's a leap of faith you’re going to have to take. I lost people here, good people along with my wife. I don’t want to see any more innocent people die.”

Alexis still look hesitant so he added in a gentler voice, “Here, you don’t believe me,” he said, pulling out his knife and turning the blade towards him so she could grab the handle. “Take it.”

“No.”

“Take it,” he commanded gently. “It’s yours. You’re going to need it in case there comes a time when you have to defend yourself.”

With trembling hands, Alexis hesitantly let her fingers wrap around the knife’s handle. “Oh…”

"I’m sorry this happened to you,” Rick said softly, “What you’ve lost. What you’ve been through. But, I can help you. You can stay here with us and you can heal. You don’t have to worry about them anymore. It’s over now.”

Overwhelmed by grief, joy and exhaustion she sank to her knees and dissolved into tears, sobbing so hard that her words couldn’t be made out by him. He silently knelt next to her as he slowly placed his hand over the blonde’s wrist and removed the knife from her hand. 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

As tired as she was, Alexis wanted to shower before anything else. She cranked on the water, her body protested strongly at the cold droplets, piercing her like needles but she grit her teeth and endured it. Alexis’ head came to rest against the cold tile with a heavy thunk. It appeared the world was against her.

She hadn't wanted this, and now that it was all over she felt even worse than she had before, because her escape felt as though it had all been for nothing. She had failed his victim’s and she had failed her family. Just thinking of them made her heart sink. Even if they were alive, what would she say? How could she face them after what she did, especially Will. He would be so angry and disappointed in her that he probably wouldn't even want to look at her, let alone call her his wife.

The tears came unbidden, but she didn't try and stop them, knowing she was alone for now. She let them flow down her cheeks as silent sobs wracked her body.

'I’m sorry,' she thought to herself as the cold drops began to sting. ‘A person like me doesn’t deserve forgiveness let alone be saved.’ 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

The courtyard was filled with an enticing aroma as Carol stirred the pot of bubbling soup. Carrots, onions and rice were mixed in with the red sauce and the children were practically salivating, whining every two minutes about how long it was taking to cook. Carol shooed the children away as she placed the lid back onto the pot. It was almost done and soon their meal would be served.

“Word around the prison is you brought a new one in.” Michonne said, curious to find out more about the girl who would now be living in the same cell block as her. 

Rick smiled a little and nodded. “Yeah,” he said with a sigh, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “She’s been through some really bad stuff. “I’m helping her deal with it.”

“Do you feel guilty? Because of what happened to your wife?” Michonne asked. “Is that why you saved her, why you brought her here?”

The former Sheriff’s Deputy froze outside the metal door to the entrance of Cell Block C as a sharp pain stabbed at his chest, cutting deeper than any knife blade. He had been so careful about shielding himself from the emotional pain from Lori’s incident that he had forgotten how much it hurt.

Michonne saw him stiffen and her eyes narrowed, thinking she had found the truth.

Rick wheeled to face her, eyes burning dark with anger. 

“That’s not it,” Rick snapped irritably, his mood having turned from pleasant to sour at just the mention of his belated wife. “She would’ve died out there on her own. I couldn’t just leave her.”

The brown haired man said nothing more as he trudged into the prison, knowing he was being irrational and that it was unfair to Michonne to vent his frustrations like this, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

It was hard to tell what time it was inside the windowless room she now called home, but upon returning from the open-air, Alexis guessed it was around four thirty, her internal clock more accurate than most.

Alexis rolled over and quietly recalled just what she had seen earlier that afternoon and knew time was ticking away before she would have to do the same thing. The people here had made it look so easy to adjust to this new world, and if she wanted to survive, she would have to find a way to adjust herself.

She climbed out of bed and padded to the metal bench to grab her boots. Fortunately she was able to get some fresh clothes, forgoing the drab clothes she was wearing when she woke. In honor of the weather, she wore a pair of boot cut jeans that set low on her hips. It had probably been a dark blue once but had since faded. On top she wore a soft gray long sleeved Tallie Top that clung to her every curve, along with a pair of brown engineer boots.

Alexis couldn’t believe she was doing this. She really didn’t feel like meeting the people here in this prison, let alone talk to them. She wanted to stay curled up in a corner where she could cry and blubber to her heart’s content, but she had been doing that since she had arrived here and it was starting to get old. So when Rick informed her it was time to introduce herself, she pushed away her initial inclination to decline and agreed to meet them in a few hours after she had some rest.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis had been so engrossed in what she was doing that she hadn’t noticed Rick standing in the doorway. He said nothing, simply watching her silently as she slipped on her boots and noticed she winced slightly as she moved her arm.

“How’s your shoulder?” He asked softly,

Alexis let out a gasp and turned her head to the voice, but when she realized it was Rick, she deflated. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.” She said as she pulled the hem of each pant leg down over the top of the boot.

Rick smiled a little, thankful that she had actually spoken more than a few words to him since their departure from the yard.

"Here," he said, reaching into his pocket and extracting a large pill. "Take it. This will clear that infection you have going on in that leg of yours and that fever down.”

Alexis eyed the single pill. From the moment she was taken, she was force-fed various types of pills from her captors and she wasn’t about to take anything else anytime soon.

“Keep it,” She said, making no move to take the pill from his outstretched hand. “Someone might really need it one day.”

The former Deputy was clearly growing irritated with her.

“Look, sooner or later you’re going to have to start giving people a chance.”

Rick could she still looked hesitant and added in a gentler voice, “Please, you need to take it.”

She let out an exasperated sigh and took the pill as if the whole thing was more trouble than it was worth.

Rick smiled, partly because he had won the fight.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, knowing full well she was.

The woman hadn’t noticed her hunger before but his question instantly reminded her that she hadn’t had anything to eat in days and silently nodded.

“Come on.”

He turned and beckoned for her to follow him. 

“Was it true,” she spoke hesitantly, stopping in her tracks and refusing to go another step until he answered her question. “What you said about your wife?”

Rick winced as if her words had been a physical blow and turned his head to look at her. He should have known she would bring that up. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his belated wife.

“Yes,” He affirmed quietly. 

“How did it happen?” She asked.

He took a deep breath as a fresh wave of guilt washed over him at the thought of her, another life he couldn’t save.

“Complications.” He replied curtly.

“Did…she turn?” she said,

A moment of suffocating silence passed between them.

“No.” Rick finally said, as he turned on his heel and made his way out the door.

As she walked side by side with the tall man, Alexis swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling apprehensive about the whole thing.

“I don't know if I can do this.”

Rick could sense the panic and desperation rising in the woman’s voice and his heart went out to her and since He had never been in that sort of situation, he couldn't really relate to what she was going through but he sympathized all the same.

He stopped walking and noticed Alexis had been staring at her own feet as she walked, her slightly bruised and cut face scrunched into a worried expression.

"I’ll be with you," he said, “You can overcome this. It’s just going to take some time.”

Unfortunately, his words did little to soothe her and her shoulders dropped visibly.

"You survived two years with those men,” he continued. “You're a strong person, so don't say you can't do this because I know you can."

She took a deep breath, keeping her gaze steady. “Okay. Okay. Okay.” She said. “I’ll go. I’ll do it.”

Rick nodded and Alexis immediately felt a pleasant heat warm her as he pushed open the door. The courtyard was very large and was warmer and brighter than any of the other places where she had been held. A blissful sigh escaped her as she enjoyed the rays of the sun on her face. She had forgotten how wonderful the sunshine could be.

The outdoor picnic area was crammed with several shabby but comfortable looking chairs as well as tables and various outdoor planters, but all that was hardly worth mentioning in comparison with the ten pairs of striking eyes that were all currently trained on her.

It appeared that seven of the ten occupants had been huddled around the large table playing some sort of card game while an older gentleman with long white hair was sitting comfortably on one of the chairs with a book in hand. The last two were standing by the makeshift kitchen, a tall woman with short salt and peppered hair, and the man who assisted Rick earlier that morning named Daryl. Apparently, these activities were far less interesting than staring at the girl in front of them.

“Alexis, the large group huddled together in the corner over there is, Glenn, Maggie, Beth, Sasha, Tyreese, Michonne and Carl.” He said, then turned and pointed a finger to the two standing under the patio cover. “You’ve already met Daryl and the woman standing beside him is Carol, she and Hershel sitting on that chair over there were the ones who tended to you when we brought you in. Everyone, this is Alexis. She’s gonna join us.”

At first, nobody spoke at all and just continued to stare quietly and Alexis was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Maybe they weren't really receptive to newcomers.

However, Carol finally shattered the silence.

"I'm glad you decide to stay,” Carol said with a smile before gesturing for her to come sit down, “Hungry?

‘Keep it together, Alex,’ she thought to herself as she sat down. “Everything’s going to be okay, just breathe. Try to act normal.’

Alexis plastered a smile on her face, hoping it looked somewhat genuine. She was determined to not let her distress show and kept her smile in place.

"Well, I honestly never expected to end up in a place like this," Alexis replied truthfully. "But I didn't really didn’t have much of a choice."

"The same goes for all of us," Tyreese said, throwing down his hand of cards and stood from his chair. "None of us ever thought we would be doing what we do but here we are, brought together for one reason or another."

Everyone nodded in unison and Alexis could sympathize. Fate had led them here and this was now their life.

"Soup is ready," Carol announced as Tyreese passed out bowls. The blonde noted that while the soup she had cooked certainly looked impressive, after moderate portions had been divided up among everyone, there was nothing left.

Alexis found herself poking half-heartedly at the food in her bowl. Despite not having anything to eat in days, she found what little appetite she had disappeared completely, despite the soup’s enticing aroma, but she forced herself to eat a few spoonfuls rather than attract more unwanted attention to herself by not eating.

While they were so engaged in their conversations, Alexis found herself losing her focus. Her eyes drifted aimlessly over the infected outside the prison gates. That's when she saw him: a single face standing out with the crowd of walkers. His light colored hair and clean shaven face contrasted with the rest of the grotesque and decayed walkers who roamed aimlessly outside the prison perimeter.

She focused in on him and his smirk deepened as if he knew she was watching him. Alexis gasped aloud and nearly fell from her chair when her eyes met his, and felt something cold clench in the pit of her stomach. He had come for her.


	4. Chapter 4

“He wants me to do what?”

Slowly, he turned around to face Ivan, not quite sure he had actually heard him right.

Ivan sighed irritably, fighting to keep his cool, Vasquez was being abnormally adverse to the whole situation and he hated to be made to repeat himself.

“You’re a highly skilled at what you do, one of the best which is why Victor needs you for the job.” Ivan explained, “I’d get her myself, but that’s clearly not an option, she’s seen my face.”

“Pity,” Vasquez said with a shrug as he turned on his heel and made his way towards the door, his hand already straying to the pocket of his flak jacket to retrieve his zippo, flipping the silver lid open and then shutting it repeatedly with his thumb. “As much fun as I had making the whore scream, I’m gonna have to decline. She’s his trophy, tell him to fetch her himself.”

“Victor thought you’d say something like that,” he said with a sigh, “Which is why I was hoping that it wouldn’t have to come down to this.”

His words were enough to stop him dead in his tracks, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife from his hip pouch. 

The blue eyed man saw the movement and drew his own knife from an unknown pocket, twirling it around on his fingers lazily, the metal glinting in the dull candle light. 

"Don't look so surprised," he said with amusement. “You knew exactly what you were getting into the moment you joined us.”

“Enlighten me, Ivan?” he said sternly, ignoring the man’s almost jovial remarks. 

Ivan only smirked knowingly. 

“Why, you couldn’t honestly expect to fuck his trophy and not expect it to come with a hefty price now did you?” 

Vasquez stood tensely, every muscle wound tight in preparation to fight if he had to. This man was incredibly powerful and his intentions were cryptic. He had to be on his guard.

"Just answer my question without the bullshit," he said, even voice sounding almost calm despite all the tension.

Ivan actually laughed, catching the knife in his hand mid spin and pointed it at his interrogator.

"You are quite an impatient man Vasquez, hardly befitting of a person such as yourself.”

Vasquez’s eyes narrowed and the blue eyed man grinned.

"Alright, I'll tell you," he said, leaning in as if he were about to divulge a big secret but was interrupted by the sound of the only door in the room opening and closing. Vasquez could sense the malevolence about the new presence immediately. Even before he saw the dark hair and deathly white skin, he knew it was Victor. Suddenly his heart felt heavy, weighted down with dread.

“Why so timid today Vasquez?” Victor asked in a voice surprisingly rich and velvety considering how strong the aura of evil was around him. “I thought you were the type of man who enjoyed a challenge, who obtained pleasure from inflicting pain on his victims. Though, I’ve been nothing more than accommodating to you and your so called…”

He paused, trying to think of the right word. 

“Urges?” Ivan supplied helpfully. 

“Yeah. Now I think it’s your turn.”

Thinking quickly, Vasquez itemized the faults with the plan, hoping it would get him out of this mess.

“You’re asking me to go on a suicide mission,” he said. “I’m not gonna lie, her pussy was great, but you’re asking me to perform a fucking miracle here. How the hell do you expect me to infiltrate that prison, capture the woman and slip out quietly without anyone taking notice? I’ll be shot and killed before we even reach the gates. Or worse, one or both of us torn to pieces by a pack of-“

His sentence disintegrated into a scream of pain as Victor grabbed the stun baton from a nearby table and sent 150,000 volts of electricity through him. He convulsed, collapsing to the floor with the pain. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just cried out as he was consumed by the pain. 

Victor’s lips curled into a cruel smile, revealing perfect teeth. 

“I can see why you enjoyed using this on her so much,” he said as he crouched down in front of the wounded man, cornering him like a predator would his prey. “You will go to that prison, and you will get her back. Do you understand?” 

“No,” He protested, weakly trying to get away from the man who had now wielded and turned his favorite torture device against him. 

“It wasn’t a request,” Victor growled, applying another round of electric current through the defying man. 

Vasquez gasped and chocked as he tried to recover from having another surge of electricity shoot through his body. 

“You have one of two options,” Victor said and pressed the two thin metal electrodes against his member. “I could kill you right now and while it would be immensely satisfying, I’m willing to let you decide your fate today. You could choose to die by my hand or have a shot at survival out there. The choice is yours.”

His words held the dark promise of a gruesome and painful death, and Vasquez felt panic begin to rise within him. 

“Alright, alright! I’ll go! I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do! Just please…get that thing away from my fucking dick!”

Victor stood and withdrew a map from his back pocket and tossed it on the floor beside Vasquez as he walked away. Almost as an afterthought, he looked over his shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t advise on trying to run from me,” he said. “I will find you and I will kill you, slowly and painfully. Do you understand, Vasquez?” 

He nodded mutely, signaling he did and the man chuckled. 

“Good, I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding.” 

Without another word, he exited the room, letting in the noise of the growling roamers outside only for a moment before the door closed behind him. 

***************


	5. Chapter 5

All eyes were fixated intently on Alexis as she abruptly got to her feet, nearly catching a foot on the chair’s leg as she backed away from the table.

“Alexis?” Rick said with concern as he slowly stood from his chair.

Alexis pressed a palm to her forehead, dramatically.

“No, no, no, no.” Alexis whimpered, suddenly feeling as if her heart had leapt up into her throat and was fluttering around wildly like a bird trying to escape its cage. “He’s here. He found me, he found me!”

Everyone quickly stood from their seats and turned in the direction she was fixated on and readied themselves in case of an attack.

Rick stilled, searching the area for signs of the trespasser, but there was nothing. Even if he had tried to conceal himself he would have at least alerted the walkers that he was near by, but there was nothing. It appeared her brain was so emotionally unstable that she was now seeing things.

“Everyone, calm down.” He ordered, holstering his weapon before turning his attention back to Alexis. “She’s hallucinating.”

She was gasping for breath, but didn’t seem to be drawing any air. She was breathing too fast and too shallowly, and Rick knew she was in danger of hyperventilating.

“You need to calm down, breathe in slowly.” Rick said.

The woman gave no indication that she heard a word of what he had said. But Alexis knew she had to get control of herself, quickly, starting with her manic breathing. She was gasping, sucking in great lungfuls, yet she couldn’t seem to get enough air. The deeper and faster she inhaled, the dizzier she became.

Rick moved towards Alexis and stood in front of her.

“Who do you see?”

She didn’t acknowledge him, and although he had entered her light of sight, her gaze had somehow shifted above and to one side of him without him being aware of the moment when it happened.

“I need you to tell me who it is you see.”

She didn’t answer.

He waited.

Now she closed her eyes. Opened them at once. She didn’t want to see him, looming and handsome with his nice smile, dry bloodstains on his clothes and nothing disturbing in his eyes. But she didn’t look away.

“V-Victor,” She gasped.

Rick stooped down, lowering his face toward Alexis’s

“I don’t see Victor,” He said. “But I believe that you do.”

“Don’t let him take me,” As she spoke, she broke down again, fresh sobs wracking her small frame. Everyone remained silent, their faces pinched with worry. “You can’t let him take me. I can’t...I can’t go back there. The pain...it’s too much.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Rick reassured.”I’m not going to let that happen. I’m here to help you, we all are, but right now I need you to stop looking at Victor and look over at me, can you do that?”

Alexis wrapped her arms around herself as if warding off a chill, but they all knew it had nothing to do with the cool evening air. 

Alexis,” Rick said. “Look at me.”

Slowly, her eyes moved to meet his face.

“Now close your eyes.”

“Why?” She whispered brokenly.

“Because your eyes and your mind are playing a trick on you.” He said and she reluctantly nodded.

Even when Alexis shut her eyes tight, the visions remained. He was burned on the back of her eyelids. She was falling apart. She wished she had never noticed him standing there so she could at least try to put what happened behind her.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

“It’s not unusual for her to hallucinate considering the trauma she sustained those few years while she was held captive.” Hershel said quietly as he pushed the curtain from his side, standing aside so Rick could pass through the doorway.

Rick shot a look over his shoulder at the woman who was sound asleep.

“She’s replacing her captor with walker’s,” Rick said as he turned his head back to him.

“She see’s these walkers as her tormentor, it’s her own way of dehumanizing him.” Hershel explained.

Rick sighed, scrubbing a hand wearily over his face.

“How is she supposed to distinguish between what’s real and what’s not without getting herself killed?”

“Maybe a little exposure therapy would do her some good. It will help her face what she finds frightening so that she can learn to cope with it effectively.” Hershel said. “But remember, Rick, she needs time to heal. You of all people should know that, so be patient with her. You were the same way after you lost Lori, don’t forget that.”

Rick turned his attention back to Alexis, who was surprisingly still asleep.

“Yeah,I know.”

~THE WALKING DEAD~

“Well, the good news is your shoulder seems to be healing well,” Hershel said. “Your leg on the other hand is another story. Are you still taking the antibiotics Rick gave you?”

Alexis nodded silently.

“Good,” He said. “Just keep taking them like you’re supposed to and keep it clean. I’ll check back tomorrow and see if there’s any change.”

Alexis nodded again.

A moment of silence passed between them and Hershel began to wonder if she would say anything at all when she finally spoke.

“You all must think I’m crazy,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hershel shook his head.

“We don’t think that,” Hershel reassured. “We’re concerned, but we don’t think you’re crazy. Believe it or not Rick went through something similar after he lost his wife.”

Alexis turned her head to Hershel.

“Really?” She asked.

Hershel nodded solemnly.

“It’s been hard for Rick,” He said. “But he’s managed to come back and has regained much of his old self since then.” 

“I just want all of this to go away,” She said. “I want to feel better but I don’t know how I can after...”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“Talking about it might help,” Hershel suggested. “You want to tell me what happened?”

After a slight hesitation, she nodded.

“The man who took me...” Alexis began hesitantly as if she were afraid to say the words. “Was an ex-cop who was supposed to stand trial by the name of Victor Hartley.”

“Is this the man you hallucinated today?”

“Yes,”

“Yeah, I just got home,” Alexis said with the phone pressed to her ear as she shuffled through her purse for her house keys. “Kate wanted to keep Aubrey for the night, so that’ll give me some time to go over the rest of this evidence before we present it to the court next week.”

Alexis turned the doorknob to emerge into lengthy hallway. A glass chandelier illuminated the corridor with a soft glow, the light refracted through hundreds of crystalline prisms. Small cultivated trees, their trunks growing in braids and spirals, sat in beautifully carved pots on each side of the door.

“Though I’m worried about the girls. At first they were just as determined as I was to put this guy away and all of a sudden they refuse to step forward and offer their testimony to the court.” Alexis said.

“Maybe they were coerced?”

Alexis sighed heavily.

“Maybe so,” Alexis said. “Even then, I still have enough hard evidence to convict this sick bastard and put him away for a long time. He won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

“That’s great sweetheart,”

“Anyway, enough about me.” Alexis said. “How’s it going up there in Atlanta?”

“As much as i want to tell you what’s going on here, I can’t. They have us under a gag order so you know how it works.” he said. “But the good news is that they’re willing to let some us come home tomorrow, and I’m one of the lucky few that were chosen.”

Alexis smiled sadly at the distant voices in the background of the phone call.

“Sweetheart-”

“I know. I know.” Alexis said. “Go. Do what you do best, save lives. Please be careful coming home tomorrow, I’ll see you then, alright?”

“I love you,” He said.

“Love you to.”

Flipping her cell phone shut, Alexis closed the door behind her and placed her purse and briefcase down on the entry way table before proceeding towards the bedroom but came to an immediate halt when the aroma of coffee hit her. She distinctly remembered turning off the coffee pot before leaving for work that morning.

Alexis stepped into the kitchen and flipped on the light switch. The blood drained from her face as she stared directly at those translucent grey eyes. Victor Hartley, a former Georgia State Trooper who faces four state felony charges accusing him of murder, aggravated sexual battery, violations of the civil rights of a person in custody and improper sexual activity with a person in custody.

He was here, right in front of her, and judging from the smirk on his lips he was in a state of euphoria. She flipped her cell phone open but before she even had a chance to touch the first digit, he stopped her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mrs. McKay.” He said. “You call the cops, your husband or anyone you might as well put a bullet into Aubrey’s brain.”

A small gasp escaped Alexis’s lips. How did this man know about Aubrey?

Victor’s smirk widened into a smile, revealing perfect teeth.

Alexis took a step towards her intruder, blue eyes wide and glistening with tears. “Where’s my baby?” She said, her voice wavering unsteadily.

“Calm down, Mrs. McKay, nothing has happened to your daughter yet.” He said, calmly. “Right now one of my men are outside your sister’s house. I have to make a phone call every thirty minutes to him. If anything stops me from making that call your daughter of course is dead. Now, if you want your daughter to see past the age of two you’ll put that away, please.” 

She slowly snapped her phone shut and placed it down on the kitchen counter.

Victor interlaced his fingers, resting his elbows on the table and propping his chin on his clasped hands.

“Come take a seat,” he continued, “We have some things that need to be discussed.”

Never taking her eyes from him, Alexis obediently lowered herself into the wooden chair across from Victor, wondering how the hell she was going to get out of this situation, or is she would even make it out alive.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I made a fresh pot of coffee.”

She fixed a hateful glare on Victor who was sitting calmly in his chair pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Black, just like my soul.”

“What do you want?” She asked, unable to keep the tremble in her voice from seeping through. 

The man chuckled, the sound making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Her senses were screaming at her that she needed to get away from this man and quick. 

He stood from his chair, abandoning his drink as he moved behind her. 

“A dangerous, young, hot attorney such as yourself, what don’t I want?” He rasped, his voice husky and deep as his fingers combed through her blonde colored curls.

“Don’t touch me,” She hissed, trying to shrug him off.

“You’re a feisty one. I love that in a woman.” he said and stepped back to regard her again. “Now Lexi, I hope it’s okay that I call you Lexi. You’re a smart woman. You pick up things really quickly. What I want is for all of this to go away and you have the ability to make that happen.”

“Excuse me?” she growled with as much menace she could muster. “You’re asking me to commit multiple infractions and that’s something I’m not willing to do, not ever.”

His mouth quirked into a smirk, displaying a surprising dimple in his left cheek.

“You fascinate me. It’s not often I get turned down by a woman or anyone else for that matter.” he mused. “But, here’s the thing, Lexi. I don’t intend to go to prison. I love power, I love money and I love sex, and I’m not about to let some little bitch take that all away from me, understand?”

Alexis swallowed hard and hoped it didn't sound as loud as him as it did to her, though she summoned her courage and sat a little straighter.

“Maybe it’s you who doesn’t understand, Mr. Hartley,” she said, “You’re a murderer, sadist and a rapist. Those four women did not deserve to be treated with such…vindictiveness.”

The former State Trooper shrugged.

“What do you expect,” He said. “I’m a man and men like me; well we tend to have many needs.”

She abruptly pushed back her chair and stood.

“You’re a sick bastard, you know that?” She spat. “You deserve every bit of what you’re going to get and more. Those girls will have justice. The answer is no. You need to leave right now. Get out of my house. Go.”

In one quick movement, Victor flipped her around and slammed her forward against the table. She bent at the waist, face pressed against the wooden surface while her feet remained on the floor. She struggled to right herself but she felt the warm weight of his body covering hers, his pelvis pressed to her rear and his torso settling over her back.

His breath tickled her neck as he growled into her ear, his hand glided down her side to grab a handful of toned cheek beneath her skirt. “No, see, you don’t tell me what to do.”

Alexis’s breath caught as he shifted against her. She had bared witness to secondhand evidence of what this man could do and she was terrified at being at his mercy.

Without warning, he raised his hand and brought it back down hard onto smooth skin, extracting a sharp cry from his captive.

“You like that don’t you?” He chuckled, hand rubbing soothingly over the abused skin.

“I swear, I’m going to make sure you spend the rest of your pathetic life in prison," she seethed squirming beneath him as she tried wholeheartedly to throw him off.

“Doubtful,” He said.

Victor smirked triumphantly as he lifted himself off of her, keeping his hips pressed close to hers as his hands wandered down her back and to her skirt.

Her eyes widen at the coffee pot dangling over the edge of the table and took the opportunity to escape as she felt his weight shift off of her.

“Get off me you son of a bitch!” She shouted, grabbing the handle and whipping around, the glass pot and the contents against the side of his head. Victor screamed, the glass and liquid burning his skin, temporarily blinding him.

Knowing she would never have a better chance than this, Alexis bolted out of the kitchen but before she could reach the front door, a hand grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair and hauled her head back forcefully before slamming her head forward against the wooden door with inexplicable force.

Alexis collapsed to the ground, her hand instinctively clutching her pounding head.

“You fucking bitch!” He growled, raising his right leg and delivered a sharp kick to her side, extracting another pained cry from his captive. Alexis gasped as she tried to scramble away but was easily deterred by Victor delivering another blow to her side.

“Let me tell you something, your daughter is dead.” He threatened, plucking a shard of glass from the side of his head and letting it drop to the floor. “She’s dead!”

“No,” She gasped as she pushed herself up on her knees and turned to Victor. “No she’s not!”

Victor roughly grabbed her by the throat and slammed her back hard against the wall. He pulled out his phone, rapidly dialing several digits before placing it on speaker.

“You’re early,” The voice said on the speaker.

“We have a little situation.”

“What kind of situation?” The voice said. “You want me to take care of the kid?”

“No!” Alexis cried, fighting with renewed vigor as she fruitlessly tried to reach for the phone.“She’s a baby you bastard! She’s a baby!”

Her small form shuddered with the force of her sobs as she feared for her daughter’s safety.

 

Victor turned his attention back to his captive and stopped her struggles by tightening his grip on her throat.

“You got three seconds to hand over all the evidence that pertains to my case or you’ll never see your daughter again.” He warned.

“I-I can’t,” She gasped. 

“One.”

“Please,” She pleaded, hands grasping weakly at the fingers squeezing her neck.

“Two.”

“Okay!” She screamed, futilely trying to twist out of Victor’s grip. “I’ll give you what you want. Just don’t hurt my little girl, please.”

“Where?”

“T-there’s a briefcase by the front door,” she wheezed. “The keys to my office are on the wall table over there by the door, that’s where you’ll find the file pertaining to your case. That’s all of it, I swear.”

He immediately snapped his phone shut, smirking at the way her voice trembled with fear, at the way she was submitting to him. No matter how many times he played this game, it still thrilled him.

At last, Victor loosened his grip on her throat and let his hand fall away.

“A very wise choice, Lexi.” He chuckled as Alexis gasped and choked as she tried to recover from the assault. “Your daughter is fortunate to have someone like you in her life.”

This monster was going to walk away scot-free and it was all her fault. It was seldom that Alexis had moments where she regretted her choice to become an attorney, but this was undoubtedly one of them.

"How do you plan on explaining this to your attorney, the court and to the Judge?” She spoke quietly, her voice quivering as she choked back tears. “You can't wash your hands of me as easily as you can the other girls."

Victor crouched in front of the woman.

“Want to know a secret?” He said, bringing his lips close to Alexis’s ear and whispering them as if they were the tender utterances of a lover.

“Cops need a body. Because where you’re going, they will never…ever…find you.”

Alexis felt panic beginning to rise within her.

“No, please!” She pleaded. “I’ve given you everything you’ve requested, what more could you possibly want from me?”

“You,”

A small fragment of glass lay on the floor, across from her, beside Victor. She looked away from the fragment, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she’d seen it. But she was fooling herself, and she knew it, because he saw everything, everything.

Maybe she would be able to get the fragment before he could stop her. It was a million-to-one chance. Hell, face it, impossible.

Although reaching the fragment of glass was probably impossible, she didn’t have any other alternatives. Nothing to lose.

Alexis lunged for the broken piece of glass but Victor reached her before she could bring the shard of glass up and turn. Smiling, he tore the fragment out of her hand with such force that she thought her hand cut into two before it slipped out of her hand, and she squealed in pain.

Before she could react, his hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, hauling her up so he was nose to nose with her.

“You just can’t seem to behave yourself, can you?” Victor smiled, shaking his head and he clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

Victor tightened his grasp on her hair before slamming her head down twice against the hard tile almost rendering her unconscious.

“I promise you’ll see things differently once I’m done with you.” He said as he kneeled between her legs.

His hand went to the fly of his pants and he tugged down the zipper with a growl, letting his length spring free from its confines.

Alexis, unable to gather her wits enough to speak with raw pain tearing through her, only shook her head in rely. She could hear the sound of his fly being pulled down and knew he was about to violate her and did not intend to lie back helplessly as this man raped her.

She sat up as far as she could and pounded on his chest before raking her nails down his neck, leaving bloody scratches in her wake. Victor hissed in pain and forced her back flat on the cold floor, catching her flailing wrists easily with one hand as he leered into her tear streaked face as she continued to struggle unsuccessfully.

Suddenly, he hooked his thumb in the waistband of her panties and jerked them over her hips and down her legs before sliding her skirt up until it bunched around her waist. He positioned his hardened member at her entrance and pushed into her in one hard stroke, extracting a pained scream as her body struggled to adjust to the intrusion.

"Fuck," he ground out through gritted teeth as her body immediately clamped around him. “You’ve got to be the tightest woman I’ve ever had.”

The ex-cop didn't even pause, pulling back to push forward again with equal intensity, uttering a guttural growl as her insides immediately clenched around him, suctioning him back inside when he tried to withdraw. She was tight and unbelievably hot and he could think of nothing else but pounding into her again and again, her sobs and cries only making him throb more inside her quivering body.

She began to struggle anew, thrashing and kicking beneath him but nothing she did could throw him off.

"Go ahead and fight me." She heard him pant as he pushed his hips forward especially hard. "It turns me on when my prey struggles."

"No! Please stop, let me go!" Alexis sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see Victor’s cruel smirk above her. She felt so violated, vulnerable and disgusted.

She was beautiful, absolutely beautiful, all covered in blood and tears, radiating fear and desire. Even her pretty blonde hair was matted with blood and he found himself on the edge just by realizing that the woman who had the power to put him away for the rest of his life, was on her back before him and submitting helplessly. She was crying for him, trembling for him, and as he licked up the blood from her face, he savored it as if it were a fine wine.

Alexis continued to whimper "no's" and "stop's" but they had lost some of their conviction as Victor continue to hammer in and out of her. Her arms were still pinned fast to the tile and no amount of struggling would change that.

Her head was spinning and she found she could barely breathe as she was filled over and over again by him. He was leering down at her, obviously enjoying having her on her back and completely helpless. She had lost the ability to form coherent words, her pained moans and desperate sobs were nothing more than music to his ears.

She felt Victor start to increase the pace and intensity of his thrusts, causing him to finally release her wrists and grip her hips with bruising intensity and slammed into her with animalistic ferocity at a pace that was sure to rub her raw.

Victor felt his balls tighten, and couldn't help a strangled moan as the pressure within him was released in a series of searing pulsations, the pleasure tearing through his body as he erupted deep inside the woman below him.

He watched Alexis’s eyes squeeze shut as she felt his release splash inside her womb while his member twitched violently against her inner walls. Every muscle in his body tensed, strung taught by the current of pleasure running through him.

Alexis’s eyes were closed as she trembled, gasping for breath after being roughly violated by one of the most feared men in Georgia. Only when she felt the man's weight shift off of her did she manage to crack open an eye.

"Well now, isn't that a pretty picture," he said as he stuffed his flaccid member back in his pants and zipped up his fly while watching the milky fluid of his own release flow from the reddened hole.

The pain had left her numb and her struggling had drained her almost completely. She lay motionless on the floor, watching her captor through half lidded eyes as he pulled out his phone once again. She must have faded in and out of consciousness because she only remembered fragments of his conversation.

“You really are beautiful," he smiled, kneeling to her side and pushing a damp strand of hair away from her forehead with surprising tenderness.

It took all of Alexis’s will power to utter out a firm, resounding "Go to hell,"

"So much bravery," Victor mused and leaned down until his lips grazed the shell of her ear as he whispered, “You’re going to be a fine addition to my trophy case.”

"What about my ADA?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she fought to stay calm. "He won't believe I just went and disappeared. He'll know you were implicated in my disappearance. They will get you and they will find me.”

“Funny that you should mention your so called ‘ADA’” He chuckled, “He was rather enthused when I stopped by his house earlier this evening for a little chat. He’s rather eager to take over as Linden County’s new District Attorney. You won’t be missed...at least not by him anyhow.”

Alexis felt her eyes burn as tears began to form.

Victor withdrew a pill bottle from his jacket pocket and opened the cap, dumping four small white pills into his hand.

“Open.” He commanded, his voice dark and firm.

Even in her current state, she remained defiant, turning her head away and keeping her jaw clenched shut.

"You really are a feisty one." he smirked, pinching her nose between his thumb and index finger which forced her to open her mouth or suffocate and he took the opportunity to pop the pills into her mouth.

“Swallow it,” He said, refusing to let go until she swallowed the pills.

He felt her try and pull away again and thrusted the pills a little deeper into her mouth in retaliation, nearly gagging her. "We can keep doing this the hard way or you can cooperate. Your choice."

Her tears finally fell, cutting wet trails down her cheeks as she swallowed down the pills tentatively.

“Good girl,” he praised.

Victor’s voice was the last thing she heard as she was plunged into blackness deeper and darker than that of any cave. Her last fleeting thought before she went limp in his arms was she hoped her death would be merciful, quick and painless.

“I was selfish; Those women trusted me, put their faith in me and I let them down. The way I see it, I’m no better than the monsters who did this to me.” Alexis said.

The sadness in her voice was unmistakable.

“We allow our own selfishness to overpower us at times. It happens. But you can’t allow that to tear you down. You can’t keep dwelling on your past choices, and your past actions, or else you’ll never learn from them.” Hershel said.

Alexis smiled sadly at Hershel’s advice. It was a lot easier said than done. Forgetting about those women and moving forward wasn't going to be so simple.


	6. Chapter 6

The red sun balanced on the highest ramparts of the prison, and in its waning light, the prison appeared to be ablaze. A cool breeze blew down out of the sun and fanned through the tall dry grass, which streamed like waves of golden fire along the courtyard.

In the knee-high grass, behind trees that were as tall as a skyscraper, the two men studied the prison from afar. This is where she is supposed to be in residence.

“The prison is not fully secured, there’s a weak spot.” Ivan said. “Structures on the administrative side have been destroyed. You can make your escape with her through there.”

Ivan let out an exasperated sigh and turned his attention towards Vasquez, who clearly had no interest in what he was saying at the moment as he managed to preoccupy himself with something.

“Come to me,” he murmured.

Even in a whisper, his rough voice had a timbre and a power that were magnetic.

“Come to me.”

Then he saw the spider. It dangled from the tree on a gossamer filament a foot above Vasquez's reaching hands.

“Please.”

As if responding to the man’s supplications, the spider spun out its thread, descending.

Vasquez stopped reaching, turned his palm-up. “Little one,” he breathed.

Fat and black, the obedient spider reeled itself down into the big open palm.

Vasquez brought his hand to his mouth and tipped his head back slightly. He either crushed the spider and ate it-or ate it alive.

He stood motionless, savoring.

“Really,” Ivan said, attempting a smile that came out more like a grimace.

“Why not?”

“That’s no answer.”  
“It’s the best answer to any question.”

“Then give me second-best.”

“Now I understand spiders better for having absorbed one.”

“You don’t actually believe you now know what it’s like to be a spider, have all the knowledge of spider, because you’ve eaten one?”

“Of course not, Ivan.” He said. “If I were that literal-minded, I’d be crazy. Wouldn’t I?”

Ivan shook his head.

“You’re a fucking moron.”

As it slowly sank behind the prison, the sun sprayed light so warmly colored and so mordant that, where touched, the darkening land appeared to be wet it and dyed forever. The grass grew red as well, no longer like a fireless burning but, instead, a red tide washing around their knees.

Regretfully, Vasquez put his favorite toys aside, because by tomorrow evening he must pass for the ordinary man that he is not, and this reverse lycanthropy required time if the transformation was to be convincing so he didn’t alarm the sheep. They must never suspect the shepherd of having a snaggle-toothed snout and a bushy tail inside his herdsman’s disguise.

 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

“Let’s call it a night,” The guy said. “We’ll pick back up first thing.”

“One more.” The teen smirked, thrusting the blade into the walker’s mouth. “Y’all go on, I’ll catch up.”

“Suit yourself,” Another teen said, picking up his crowbar from the ground before turning and walking back to the prison with the others. 

The teen grunted as he tried to remove the blade from the walker’s mouth, but it refused to pull free. As his arm pressed hard against the chain link, flesh bulging out through the diamond pattern, teeth tore into warm flesh, taking a small chunk with it.

The teen let out a pained gasp and stumbled back a few steps until his back hit the fence behind him.

“Shit,”

He was fixated on the horrid bite wound on his right forearm. For a long time he watched, hypnotized, as the blood oozed and dripped.

He felt sick to his stomach. He felt an uncharacteristic chill.

The young teen then grabbed the hem of his shirt and ripped a long piece off and wrapped it over his forearm. Blood oozed through.

He let out another curse then proceeded by rolling down his sleeve, concealing it from the other survivor’s. He stood straight to leave the fenced area and dizziness hit him so hard and fell against the fence.

Blood loss. It had to be the blood loss. He thought, and walked back towards the prison.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

It had been a little over a week since Alexis had escaped from Victor and his men but adjusting to this new life had not gotten any easier. The experience had left its mark. She had awoken three times this week drenched in a cold sweat as vivid nightmares robbed her of sleep. She could still feel their touch, still see their piercing eyes. In her dreams they were holding her down, violating her, and there was nothing she could do.

Sometimes physical touch frightened her, like when Hershel would inspect the infection in leg, or when Tyreese put a hand on her shoulder, or when someone would accidently bump into her. She had to fight the urge to push them away and run.

However, it wasn’t her lack of companionship that kept her holed up in the prison. It was a certain brown headed man she frequently hallucinated. Despite everyone’s reassurances, she insisted on remaining inside where she felt safe. Fortunately, everyone seemed to accept her explanation.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis tugged the covers over her head and groaned, noting that an infant was crying inside the cellblock. She tried to go back to sleep, but the little infant’s cries were getting louder with each passing second.

With a grumble, Alexis peeled back the covers and tamed her hair as best as she could and pulled on her clothes. She left her room, hesitating for only a moment as she debated whether or not she should wait and see if someone would heed to the baby’s cries, but then pushed on. She made her way down the steps and into the cell with the crying baby.

“Shh, baby,” Alexis spoke quietly. “I’m sure someone will come for you soon.”

She winced as the baby’s cries turned into shrieks and held out her arms to be picked up. She was reluctant to pick up the infant, even though she saw that tears had cut glimmering tracks down her little face.

“Please stop crying,” Alexis pleaded as she twisted her fingers together nervously, eyes scanning her surroundings critically for someone to take and soothe the crying infant, and yet no one came.

She swallowed nervously and leaned over the playpen and picked up the baby.

“I’m here, baby. Everything’s going to be alright now. I’m here. You aren’t alone anymore.” Alexis soothed, wiping away the remnants of her tears with her thumb.

Hot tears blurred Alexis’s vision, disabling tears, an indulgence she could not afford. She blinked furiously until her eyes were dry and her vision was clear.

In a few moments, the baby’s cries died down and a smile slowly spread over Alexis's lips.

“You just wanted to be held, didn’t you?” She laughed nervously, her voice sounding high and brittle even to her own ears as she began to babble while lightly bouncing the infant. 

The baby reached up to thread her small fingers through wiry strands of blonde, tugging her back down to her level and Alexis couldn’t help but giggle. Just as she was about to hug her close, a sound behind her had her turning around quickly. Beth stood there, blue eyes wide and a bottle in her hand.

“I…she was crying,” Alexis stammered, seeming a little shaken by Beth’s presence.

Beth smiled and shook her head. “It’s okay,” she said. The blonde haired girl stepped forward, offering her the bottle in her hand. “I was just getting her bottle. You can feed her if you want.” 

“I don’t know.” she replied reluctantly. “It’s been a long time since-”

Her sentence was cut short when a small hand found it way to her cheek.

“I think she likes you,” Beth giggled. 

“It would appear so,” Alexis responded and took a step forward to hand the baby over to Beth. “But I think it would be best if her own mother fed her now that she’s here.”

Beth shook her head.

“She’s not my baby,” She said softly. “She’s Rick’s and Lori’s.”

Alexis stiffened but said nothing as she glanced down at the infant in her arms. She gently took the bottle out of Beth’s hand and readjusted the baby so she could feed her. It was the least she could do, seeing as Rick had saved her life and all.

“What’s her name?” Alexis asked.

Smiling, Beth pointed to a sign on the play pin that read Lil’ ass kicker written in black sharpie.

“You’re kidding, right?” She said, tone disapproving.

Beth laughed softly and nodded.

“Judith,” Rick interjected. "Her name is Judith.”

Both Alexis and Beth turned to find Rick standing at the doorway. Though she was still timid around others, a smile came easily to her lips at the sight of him.

“Hey,” She said softly as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed to make room for him to enter. 

“Hey,” He replied, entering the room quietly.

Beth’s gaze switched from Rick to Alexis as the silence between the three stretched until it started to become awkward.

“I’ll just leave the two of you alone,” Beth said and turned to leave.

Rick shook his head in amusement as she walked out of the room.

“You never mentioned you were a father?” Alexis said.

“Two kids,” He replied as he sat next to her. “I have a son. Carl.”

“So you pretty much have your hands full, huh?”

“Yeah, you can say that.” He said.

They sat in silence, the only sound in the room being Judith exhaling after a swallow of her milk. She looked over at him as he sat. It looked like he was in deep thought and she wondered what about.

“Did she at least get a chance to meet her?” She asked before she was even aware that the words were leaving her mouth.

His head turned to her, expression unreadable.

"Who?”

She took a deep breath, hoping her question wouldn't anger him, but now that she had started she couldn't stop.

“Your wife...did she...have a chance to meet Judith?”

Of all the things she could have said, he certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“No,” Rick said softly, his eyes shifted downwards to his own lap before they closed altogether.

“When we found this prison, there were others, prisoner’s still locked inside.” He continued. “We made a deal: In exchange for half of the prisoners' food supplies, we would help clear out a different cell block. However, two were very uncooperative, untrustworthy and hostile. When we arrived near the destination cell block, I instructed Tomas to open only one of the double doors. He refused to listen and opened both of the doors at once, pouring walking into the room. During all of the commotion, he took a swing at me then pushed a walker into me, attempting to get me killed. I had no choice.”

“So you killed him.” Alexis said quietly.

Rick gave a small nod of his head and looked up from his hands, the hands that had killed, hands that couldn’t protect the people he had ever cared about.

Alexis was silent a moment and then nodded in acceptance. She was never fond of violence or bloodshed, but she could understand why he had to do what he did. The world was no longer the utopia they once thought it was. Now living in such a hostile world, everyday was a struggle to maintain their humanity. Whether that being battling walkers, coping with casualties or dealing with predatory human survivors.

“The other, Andrew, was chased into an enclosed yard of walkers after he retaliated so I shut and locked the barred gate behind him, leaving him for the walkers.” He said. “A few days later, a group of walkers were in the courtyard. Andrew, somehow managed to survive ended up cutting the gate open. I couldn’t get to her, no matter how fast I ran, I just...couldn’t get there fast enough. The stress caused her to go into labor early and she started losing too much blood. Lori made the decision to have Maggie cut her abdomen open so Judith could be removed, despite knowing she wouldn’t survive. Maybe if I had done something else, Lori might still be…”

“That wasn’t your fault,” She said. "There's no way you could have foreseen something like that."

Rick nodded and smiled a little, wishing her advice could be so easily taken.

“I know it's a waste of time, but I can't stop thinking about the things I should've said to her... Things I should've talked to her about." He said, unable to mask his pain completely.

“Does it get better? With time?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He said quietly. “At first, I tried to forget. I tried to put it all behind me. I tried to you know…just look forward. But it just didn’t work. Wherever I turned, wherever I looked I would see Lori.”

They sat in silence for a moment until Rick spoke again.

“She was an amazing woman and I loved her and I want my kids to know that. The best thing I can do right now is honor her by keeping my children safe above all else.” He continued. “So...I don’t know…I’m just trying to keep it all together really.”

“Raising two children and providing sanctuary for all these people,” Alexis said. “I’d say you’re doing pretty well given the circumstances.”

A small smile formed on Ricks lips.

“I haven’t had a chance to say thank you,” Alexis said quietly as she brushed brown strands away from Judith’s face.

“For what?”

“For saving my life,” Alexis replied, meeting his gaze as she looked up from Judith. “What life I have I owe to you. You could have easily driven by but you didn’t. Thank you.”

She was forcing her voice to stay strong when it threatened to waver.

“You’ve been my only way through this,”

She was thankful to Rick, for the thought of braving such a strange, new world alone was unappealing and intimidating. It was hard to believe all this existed while she was held captive.

“I guess we both met each other at the right time.” Rick said.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

The three men watched her from the catwalk, enjoying the scene before them in their own quiet way before Hershel spoke.

“She’s progressed a lot these past few days,” Hershel said. “I guess we have Judith to thank for that.”

“That or she’s putting up a really good front.” Daryl said.

A smile graced Rick’s lips as he watched Alexis shower his daughter in kisses. There was no doubt that most of her improvement was because of Judith, the two had become quite attached to one another. The nightmares and hallucinations were becoming less frequent and she was able to step outside without being reduced into a panic.

His heart was filled with pride as he watched her and it was obvious how much Judith had come to love her. He supposed he could see why. She was easy to love, charismatic, compassionate, yet possessed a great inner strength.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to the both of you about,” Hershel said.

“What?” Rick asked. 

“I managed to get her to open up,” He said.

“And?”

“Her abductor was an ex-cop, a State Trooper,” Hershel said. “Maybe you’ve heard of him, Rick. Victor Hartley.”

Rick stiffened slightly, hoping neither Hershel nor Daryl hadn’t noticed his rigid posture.

“Are you sure?” Rick said turning his head to Hershel.

Hershel nodded.

Rick’s eyes widen. No, that couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be him.

“I take it the two of you have met?” Daryl said.

“Yeah,” Rick said. “We’ve crossed paths from time to time, all unpleasant experiences. I can’t believe I didn’t piece it together when she said his name. That explains why he was able to walk away free, the son of a bitch took out the only threat that was going to keep him in prison for the rest of his life.”

Rick sighed, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. This was just perfect wasn’t it? First the Governor and now an egotistical, self-centered, narcissist and sadist was now a great threat to her and his people here at the prison.

“We’re going to have a big problem on our hands if he realizes Alexis is here and alive.” Rick said.

“You yourself said he may believe she’s dead,” Daryl said, arms crossed over his chest. “She was barely clinging to life when we found her. The asshole didn’t even tell her about the world going to shit, she didn’t stand a chance out there on her own.”

Rick shook his head.

“No, not Victor,” He said. “There’s no doubt in my mind that he think’s Alexis is dead. He’d want confirmation. He kept her alive for years, wounded her enough where she couldn’t get too far, why do you think that was?”

“Because she was a trophy, his trophy.” Daryl said.

“Exactly,” Rick said, “Which means he’s not willing to let her fall into other hands but his own and he won’t stop until he gets exactly what he wants.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” Hershel asked.

“With Michonne out searching for the Governor, we’re down an extra pair of hands.” He said. “We’ll up the security around the prison in case either decide to show their ugly faces.”

“What about our supply run today?” Daryl said. “Do we hold up?”

Rick shook his head.

“No, we need supplies.” Rick said. “Everyone will stick to their daily routines and responsibilities until we return. For the time being no one is to mention a word of this to Alexis until I get back.”

“And the Governor,” Hershel said. “You’ve been dodging the subject since she arrived. She needs to know the situation.”

“I’ll talk to her.” Rick said.

“Rick-”

“I said I’ll talk to her,” He repeated.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

“You’re leaving?” Carl asked as he watched his father load a few things into the trunk for the supply run.

“Just for a little while,” Rick replied.

“I want to come,” Carl said.

Rick sighed.

“Carl, we’ve talked about this.”

“But I can help!” He protested.

“If you want to help, help the other’s hold things down until we return,” he said firmly, tired of arguing with him but still trying to be gentle. He didn't want Carl to resent him for this.“I need you here where it’s safe.”

Carl growled in exasperation, but finally consented and turned to leave.

“Ok,”

“Carl,” Rick called, stopping the young boy in his tracks. “Actually, there’s something I need you to do while I’m gone.”

“What is it?”

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Alexis at the prison if he wasn’t there, not if there was a chance Victor was on the hunt for her. But right now he didn’t have much of a choice. Alexis had no training under her belt whatsoever. She was a liability.

“I need you to look after Alexis while I’m away.” He said.

Carl looked at his father quizzically.

“Why?”

“Something has been brought to my attention and I feel she needs an extra pair of eyes on her, that’s all.” He said.

“Can we trust her with Judith?” Carl asked.

“Yes. Judith is in good hands but that’s not the problem.” Rick said.

“Then what is?”

Daryl whistled at Rick, informing him they were ready to depart. Rick turned to Daryl and placed a hand up, signaling he understood before he regarded Carl again.

“Look, I promise we’ll talk about this when I get back.” He said, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“Okay,” He said.

Rick gave Carl’s shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand drop away.

“We’ll be back soon.”

Carl watched his father’s back for a moment, his mind replaying their unexpected conversation, then turned back to the blonde woman who was holding his little sister close as if she were her own child. His father assured him Judith was in good hands, so why the need to watch over her, unless she was in some type of danger?

Carl shook his head, clearing away thoughts, and sat down at a nearby table, simply watching her as she talked with the other women. Today was going to be a very long day.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis sat on the bed with Judith in front of her. From the first moment that she held the Judith, she was hooked. Those eyes called to her almost the same way Aubrey’s did. They were endless and seemed to make the world around her vanish.

“Ohhh…” Alexis said as she placed a few wooden blocks in front of Judith to play with. Judith grabbed a wooden blocked and placed it into her mouth.

“No, no, no.” She said, gently lowering Judith’s hand from her mouth. “Those aren’t for eating, silly.”

Alexis didn't even need to look up when the sheet to her door to her room was pushed aside. She could guess by his footsteps, deceptively soft for a man with a prosthetic leg, the identity of her visitor.

“I could use your help with something.” Hershel said. “If you’re up to it.”

Alexis shifted her focus away from Judith for a brief moment to look at Hershel.

“Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Everything’s fine,” He assured. “Just could use an extra set of hands is all. I’ll get Beth to take Judith for a bit while we work, so-”

“Judith comes,” Alexis interjected. “I just...I feel better when she’s around. If that’s okay?”

“Alright then,” He said with a smile. “Come on.”

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Even though he tried to remain focused, Rick’s mind kept drifting back to the blonde haired woman back at the prison. He knew she was in good hands, even though he would be away for a little while. So why was there a strange feeling gnawing at his gut as he watched her while they pulled away from the prison? Perhaps it was his promise that made him feel like he had an even greater responsibility to protect her, especially when Victor was out on the prowl for his prize.

He was so lost in his thoughts that it took him a couple of seconds to register the shouts that were coming from the outside of the car.

“Stop!” The man pleaded, waving his arms in the arm frantically as he signaled the car to slow down.

“What do you want to do?” Daryl said, glancing away from the two lane.

“Hey!” The unknown man shouted, “Hey! Slow down! Slow down! I’m begging you! Please!”

“We can’t just leave him out here,” Maggie said from the back seat. “With the Governor still out there as well as this Victor guy, we could use all the help we can get."

Rick sighed. He knew Maggie had a point. They needed more people to defend the prison. However, with Victor still out there, there was no telling what plan that maniac was conjuring up. Hesitant to bring any new survivor’s into the prison, Rick had grudgingly agreed.

“Daryl, stop the car.” Rick said.

As Vasquez walked toward the small group, he drew in slow, deep breaths and cleared his mind. He enjoyed the charade of his second life, passing for one of the repressed and deluded who, in uncountable multitudes, rule the earth with lies, who pass their lives in denial, anxiety, and hypocrisy. He was like a fox in a pen of mentally deficient chickens that were unable to distinguish between a predator and one of their own, and this is a fine game for a fox with a sense of humor.

Every day, all day long, Vasquez weighed other people with his eyes, furtively tested their firmness with a friendly touch, breathed the enticing scents of their flesh, selecting among them as if choosing packaged poultry at a market. He didn’t often kill those he met in his public persona— only if he was absolutely certain that he could get away with it and if the particular chicken promised to be tasty.

If Alexis McKay hadn’t disturbed his usual routine, he would have spent more time re-acclimating himself to his role as an ordinary guy. He might have read a couple of chapters in a romance novel by Robert James Waller, and skimmed an issue of People to remind himself of those things that the desperate ruck of humanity uses to anesthetize itself against the awareness of its true animal nature and the inevitability of death. He might have stood before a mirror for a while, practicing his smile, studying his eyes.

Nevertheless, by the time he reached the small group of survivors, he was confident that he would slide back into his second life without a ripple and that all those who look into his pond will be comforted to see their own faces reflected. Most people had expended so much effort and time in the denial of their predatory nature that they couldn’t easily recognize it in others. But as he stood in front of this so called lanky sheriff, he knew he had to be especially cautious of him. This man was no fool, but that made the game far more exciting.

As they headed back to their sanctuary, Vasquez couldn’t help but wonder what she would think of him in this surprising new guise. She would be shocked. More illusions shattered. Seeing him on his way to his second life, realizing that indeed he passed for a “normal”, she would plunge into a despair deeper than any she has yet known. He was already erect with the dream of it, but wondered if he would attack her first with knife or phallus-or perhaps with his gun. That decision would be made in the moment of capture.

I’m coming for you, Allie.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

She continued to scan the crowd of walkers, taking in the rotting bodies when her eyes rested on a particular man. Unlike the others, he wasn't decaying, growling at her or slipping his fingers through the chain link, but merely watching her quietly with a smirk on his lips and arms folded over his chest.

“Alexis,” Hershel said, his words bringing Alexis’s attention back to him.

“Hmm,”

“Are you alright?”

Alexis pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second before opening them once again.

“Yeah, sorry.” She apologized. “You were saying?”

“I thought this would be a good spot to put the feral pigs,” He said.

Alexis stood there unmoving, looking at him evenly.

Finally she said, “You’re not serious? I don’t know the first thing about farming.”

“It is never too late to learn,” He said.

More silence.

“Hershel…” She started, but then didn’t know what to say.

“Like I’ve told Rick once before, I can’t do this all on my own.” He said. “I can teach you. It’ll do you some good.”

“Wait, are you trying to guilt trip me?”

“Is it working?” He asked with a wry grin.

Alexis opened her mouth to speak when a shriek ripped the air, followed by others and gunfire. Nothing could be worse than that.

Except for what happened next.

Alexis could only watch in horror as the car packed full of frantic survivor’s sped down the dirt path and toward the entrance gates of the prison.

‘No, no, no.’ Alexis thought.

She quickly picked Judith up and pulled her close to her chest, shielding her from any possible danger as the car slammed into the gates, only to be deterred by the two red metal double doors, attracting a number of walkers to infiltrate the prison through the exposed opening.


	7. Chapter 7

Alexis was surprised to realize that the thousand-fathom weight of the screams had brought her to a standstill. Her legs were weak; her calf and thigh muscles quivered as if she had run a marathon. She seemed on the brink of collapse. She slowly turned to look over her shoulder and sure enough, the man she had been hallucinating was nowhere to be seen. 

Judith’s cries brought her back into reality and she hugged her close to her chest and said, "It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not going to let anything happen to you."

"We have to leave this area," Hershel said. "In a few moments they’re going to push their way through that gate.”

“There are survivor’s still trapped inside the vehicle,” Alexis said. “We can’t just abandon them. It’s not right!” 

"Daddy!" Beth cried. 

Hershel turned his head towards his daughter's voice.

"What happened?"

Beth shook her head.

“There’s walkers in both cell blocks,” She panted. “We don’t know how they got in.” 

“Where are the others?” Hershel asked. 

“Inside,” She replied. 

Hershel turned back towards Alexis.

“Take Judith and follow Beth back to the guard tower,” Hershel said. "Lock the door and stay inside until things get back under control.” 

“What about you?” Alexis panicked, wide eyed. 

"I'm going to help the other survivor's.” 

“Daddy, no.” Beth protested. 

“Go, Beth.” He commanded. “Get Alexis and Judith somewhere safe.” 

"Daddy, I can't-"

“I’ll go,” Alexis interjected. 

“Alexis-” 

“You have two girl’s here that need their father. I have no one waiting for me here.” She said, in a tone that left no room for argument. “I’ll go, just tell me what I need to do in case I come into contact with one of those things.” 

“Aim for the head,” Hershel said. “Not the heart, not the lungs, the head. That’s the only way to take them down permanently.” 

Alexis nodded mutely, signaling she understood as she handed Judith over to Beth. 

“Keep her safe,” She said and she nodded silently. 

Alexis drew her knife as a half-dozen infected were looking at or already staggering toward the car. 

“Ah,” She said. And then: “God.” 

Alexis sprinted towards the small Honda.

Move, move, move. 

She raced for them, faster than she had ever run in her life, faster than when she escaped from Victor's clutches, boots pounding noisily on the ground. 

Alexis tried the door but it was jammed shut. 

“Get down!” She commanded. 

She elbowed out the fractured passenger’s side window and reached to the woman and said, “Come on, out through the window, quickly now.” 

When the woman failed to look at her but clung to the door and stared out the cracked windshield at the walkers, Alexis took her by the shoulder and pulled. 

“Come on, come on, come on,” She urged. “It’s damn stupid if we die now.”

One by one she helped the survivor’s out from inside the car, working as fast as she could. 

The frantic man in the driver’s side hollered as he fruitlessly tried to disengage his safety harness, “They’re gonna eat me! They’re gonna eat me!” 

The infected were getting close. 

“They’re gonna eat me!” He yelled again. 

"Leave him!" One male urged. "It's too late for him. He should have thought about that before he decided to try and ram through the damn gates.” 

Alexis turned and glared at him. 

“So that makes it okay to just leave him, you’re all implicated in this mess!” She said, anger putting an edge in her voice. 

“It is what it is,” He said. “Once they get here, they’re gonna eat his crazy ass. You won’t be able to do anything about it except get eaten too.”

Alexis shook her head. 

“If you want, you can help me get him out. If not, you can back off and we’ll give it a go without you.”

“Suit yourself lady,” He said, then turned and ran back towards the prison. 

Alexis leaned inside the window and reached for the safety harness, but before she could saw through the strap with her knife the man grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him, his face stopping at kissing distance. 

“They’re gonna kill us all!” He screamed.

She put her hands to his chest and started pushing. 

“Get off me!” 

He grabbed her shirt to pull himself closer. She got the full stench of his hot, slobbery breath. His spit splattered her face. 

“Get off me!” She pushed harder.

“Slaughter! Slaughter! Kill all the walkers!”

Alexis knocked his hands free and pushed hard and crawled out the window as quickly as she could with no thought to cuts and scrapes. She fell free and hit the ground with a slap. Thanks to her reckless behavior, perseverance, and selflessness, she only had seconds to live unless she put some distance between herself and the infected horde pushing their way through the gates. 

She got to feet beneath her, but stilled when she heard his voice. 

“Lexi,”

The man chuckled, the sound making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Alexis’s heart pounded so hard that it seemed as if each blow might knock her down. Her arms shook uncontrollably. In her white-knuckle grip, the knife carved wobbly patterns in the air in front of her, and she wondered if she would have the strength, in any confrontation, to thrust and slash effectively. That was the thinking of a loser, and she hated herself for it.

Instinct had told her to find someplace to hide, and she’d been wise to listen.

“Now, don’t look so scared, Lexi.” His smooth voice chuckled.

Alexis pressed a palm to her forehead.

“He’s not really there,” She told herself. “It’s a hallucination. Your mind is just playing tricks on you.”

“Is that what they’ve been telling you,” He said. "Naughty girl. It’s time for you to come home where you belong.”

Alexis shook her head brusquely.

“No,” She protested, taking a step back.

“I own you, Lexi. The sooner you come to terms with that the better it’ll be for all of us.”

Dear God, it would never come to that. She would find a way to commit suicide before she would let him take her back to that room. Alexis would bite open her own wrists, slit her throat, something. Something. 

She couldn’t let him take her away. Afraid that thinking about the situation would paralyze her again, Alexis recklessly took a step forward. She could do it too. She could slam the blade deep, aim for the head, yank the knife out of him and ram it in again, stab the son of a bitch and listen to him squealing for mercy until he was silent forever. 

Never had she done anything like that; Never had she caused anyone physical harm, not once in her life. But she could do it now, waste him, because she was terrified not just for herself, but for the others as well, because she was sick at the thought of failing them and herself— and because she was a natural-born vengeance machine, a human being. She could do it. She could do it. She was ready to kill, do it without hesitation, with no thought of mercy, with a vengeance, because he had empowered her to do it.

“Lexi. I’m a determined person. I was determined to have you, and I did. I am, and always will be, a person who gets what he wants."

Propelled by her fear for herself, the others and by a rage born from self-disgust at her moment of weakness on the field, she dashed toward him, rage swelling into fury as she went, shocked by her own boldness, seeming to glide along the ground, as swift as if sliding down an icy slope, straight towards the very man who tormented her for years, without hesitation, knife raised high, her arm no longer shaking, steady and sure, crazy with terror and despair and righteousness, she turned the pointed end of the knife at his skull and drove the blade deep through the bone, hot blood flowed from the wound, splattering her clothes and the dirt road. 

“Shut up! Shut up! Just shut up!” 

Tears pricked Alexis's eyes, threatening to fall and mingling with crimson liquid as he fell hard to the ground and soon her weight settled on him as she straddled his hips and stabbed him again and again, with increasingly brutal enthusiasm.

“I hate you! I fucking hate you! You took everything away from me! I want my husband! I want my baby!” She screamed. “Please, just die!”

Alexis didn’t know how many times she stabbed him or for how long. All of her pent up anger, frustration, and sadness poured out of her as she watched the copper-smelling puddle of blood spill from him.

Cursing Victor, Alexis stood. This was what he had reduced her to— this blind, animal fury— and the worst thing was that it felt good, this rage, so good in comparison to the fear and helplessness she had endured for years, a sweet singing of rushing blood in the veins and an exhilarating sense of savage strength. She should have been appalled at the lust for blood that seized her, but she liked it, and she knew that she would like it even more if he was the real Victor and not some walker, 

The first few of the infected reached the crazy guy inside the car and fell on him with their mouths open and their hands tearing at his clothes. From the corner of her eye, she detected movement to her left, turned her head, and saw an airborne walker-oh, shit-like an incoming mortar round that staggered off the trunk of the car. Though she raised her left arm and started to swing toward the walker, she wasn’t quick enough, and before she could thrust the knife into the walker, she was hit so hard that she was blown off her feet. 

And as she went down, the walker was on top of her. When Alexis hit the ground, her breath was knocked from her, and her knife popped out of her left hand, spun into the air. She grabbed at it as it tumbled away, but she missed. 

She was surprised to hear herself speaking aloud: “Shit, shit, shit…”

In the struggle, she pounded its decaying head with her right fist, hoping, praying she would hit something vulnerable. “Get off, damn it!” 

He just kept growling, and kept trying to pull her face closer to his mouth, seeking meat, blood. Alexis stretched her hand toward the knife lying in the grass. The weapon was a foot beyond her reach. She tried to heave the walker off her. It was heavy, bearing down stubbornly, hands digging frantically at her. 

She heaved with all her strength, and the walker clung, but she was able to hitch a few inches closer to the knife. She heaved again, and now the knife was just six inches beyond her grasping fingertips. 

She saw another walker coming toward her, ready to join the fray. Two of them. She couldn’t handle two of them at once, both on top of her. She heaved, desperately hitching sideways on her back, dragging the clinging walker with her. 

Heave.

Spotting her point of greatest vulnerability, the walker scuttled toward her right foot. She kicked at it, and the walker dodged back, but then it darted in again. She kicked, and the walker bit the heel of her Gaucho. 

Kicking with both feet to ward off the walker. Kicking, heaving sideways. The other’s teeth gnashing an inch short of her flesh. Alexis touched the knife. Closed her fingers around it jammed the knife in its skull. 

Snapping teeth. The remaining walker. Pressed toward her chin. Snap-snap-snap. And the eager hungry whine right before his face exploded onto the grass floor of the prison yard. He went limp on top of her, his blood pouring out onto her from the wound. Gasping, she pulled herself free and whipped her head in the direction of her savior. 

Carl? 

“Come on!” Carl yelled. “Hurry!” 

It was time to go. She grabbed her knife and sprinted towards the prison. 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Being Dominic Vasquez meant being free but not reckless, being quick but not impulsive. He must have a sense of proportion, good timing and a nice smile. A truly nice smile combined with self-control could take a person a long way. 

“It’s not much to look at, but its home.” Rick said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

They don’t suspect for a second the person he really is, and their cow-stupid lack of awareness delights him. Oh, what a fun kill they all would be. 

“Hell, friend, anything’s better than another night out there.” He said. “Can’t remember the last time-”

“Stop the car!” Rick commanded to Daryl before he threw the car door open and stepped out.

“Rick, do you think-”

The sheriff deputy never heard the rest of what Maggie said as he took in the scene before him. 

“Oh, Jesus. Oh no.”

Walkers had infiltrated the prison. Dozens. The fences were rammed through with a small Honda, allowing straggling walkers to enter. But the Honda was coming from the prison, not the opposite. Was it possible the prison was infiltrated from the inside somehow? Maybe that’s what sent them into panic? Could it be the work of the Governor? Victor? 

Vasquez whistled, leaning against the vehicle and resting his elbow on top of the car’s roof. “Looks like you got a mess on your hands,” He said. 

“We need to move that car and get that gate shut before anymore walkers get through,” Rick said. 

“Rick, there’s just too many.” Maggie said. “There’s no-” 

“We’re not abandoning this place. Not yet!” He growled. “They’re slow, if we keep moving and don’t let them surround us, we could clear them out of here.”

“You heard the man,” Daryl said as he reached for his crossbow inside the light green Hyundai.

Glenn jumped on the hood and jumped down onto the driver’s side and raised his pistol at the two walkers inside of the vehicle feasting on the mutilated corpse. Adrenaline shook his hands as he found the ignition key to try and start the engine, but to his dismay it didn’t start, and shifted the car into neutral. 

“Rick, I’ve got it in neutral!” Glenn said. 

“Let’s move this car and get these gates closed.” Rick said. 

Everyone took a position on the front of the car hood and pushed it inside, shutting the metal doors. 

"Get in formation,” Rick commanded, and shot at the walker closest to him. "Stay tight.” 

“There’s too many of them,” Daryl said.

“This way,” Rick said, pointing to a clear path. 

Movement to Vasquez’s left caught his eye. Indeed she was here, three hundred feet away from him and still running, but is slowing and will soon stop to catch her breath. Her back was to him, and she was moving away, heading toward the prison, surely hoping to scuttle out of sight before the roamers devoured her. 

Vasquez had never felt half as buoyant as he did now. He was so alive, all of his senses enhanced by the ferocity of the moment. He felt giddy, silly. He wanted to caper under the sun and twirl with his arms out like a child making himself dizzy with the sight of spinning clouds. But there were roamers to be dealt, a pretty face to save, and that was fun too. As he reached to his holster for his revolver, Vasquez left quickly, afraid that they might sense his excitement, and become alarmed.

"Don't break rank!" Rick commanded to Vasquez. "Hey!” 

Rick's gaze followed Vasquez as he sprinted toward the prison, towards Alexis and Carl...but where was Judith?

“We need to move!” Rick told them, fear turning it to a yell. “Go, go, go!” 

They didn’t need further direction, and stuck with him step for step. 

The woman was running, urging the boy along with a hand in the small of his back. He came in fast behind them. 

A riot of growls and gunfire echoed through the air. 

“Oh, my God,” Alexis panted. 

They bolted at full speed toward the guard tower. 

“Please, if there is a God, let the door be unlocked.” Alexis thought. 

Panic was setting in as they reached the door. The life of the boy, and her life, depended on whether it would turn. It didn’t swing open. 

“Damn it!” She grabbed the handle and pulled. 

“Hurry!” Carl yelled.

She pounded my fist on the metal door. “Open the door! Somebody open up! Hurry!”

The walkers were still rushing as them. Carl squeezed the trigger, and the pistol clicked, the hammer falling on an empty chamber. Weak and dizzy with terror, she frantically surveyed the area for a place to hole up, but there was nothing close at hand. 

"Get behind me," Alexis said, pulling Carl closer to her. 

Her arms were shaking so badly that already she had to grip the weapon with both hands to prevent herself from dropping it.

Vasquez leveled his weapon at the infected in front of her and squeezed the trigger, then shot another twice in the back. He fell but didn’t die. Alexis and Carl backed away from the writhing monster as he fired a fourth bullet. It found home in the skull of the squirming infected. He went limp. 

Carl’s eyes were wide with shock. She probably had the same look on her face. They stood there for a second with overloaded brains and ringing ears. 

Breathing raggedly, dripping cold sweat, Alexis dropped the knife and placed her back to the door before sliding down to the ground and letting out a heavy breath in relief. 

“Carl!” Rick cried, engulfing him in a tight embrace, relieved knowing his son was safe. “You’re safe--you’re okay.” 

He turned to Alexis, trying to fight down his panic and frustration. 

“Judith,” He said. “Where’s Judith?” 

“Safe,” Alexis replied. “She’s with Beth in the guard tower.” 

Rick let out a heavy sigh in relief. His children were safe. He rose quickly and turned to Vasquez, anger etched on his face. 

“What the hell was that back there?” He growled. “You ditched us.” 

Vasquez put on his most sincere face. He could almost manage a blush. “Listen, sorry if I offended. But the woman and boy were about to become walker chow. I was helping."

“I’ll deal with you later,” Rick growled thrusting an angry finger at his face before turning his attention back to Alexis. “Where is everyone?” 

“I don’t...I don’t really know to be honest,” She replied. 

“How did this happen?” 

Alexis shook her head. 

“We're not sure,” She said. “One moment Hershel and I are talking and the next there’s screaming and gunfire coming from inside the prison. A few of the survivor’s panicked, got into a vehicle and crashed into the fence. I managed to get all but one of the survivor’s out of the vehicle in time.” 

Daryl looked at Rick.

"You think the Governor had something to do with this?"

“Who?” Alexis asked quizzically. 

“Long story, and we’ve kinda got other things to worry about.” Rick said holding out a hand to Alexis to pull her up which she gratefully accepted. 

“Are you hurt...bit?” 

Alexis shook her head again and reached down for her knife. 

“No,” She said. “It’s not my blood.” 

“We can talk later,” Daryl said. “Right now we’ve gotta move.”

“We need to work our way inside. I’ve got to find out how everyone is. We’ll kill as many as we can on the way.” Rick said, leading Carl and Alexis to the fenced-in entryway. 

“We’ll come for you when we’ve got this place cleaned up.” He said. “Make sure you lock yourselves in.” 

“Dad-” 

“Don’t argue.” Rick said to Carl. 

Vasquez turned his gaze to the blonde and slowed his pace enough so the others were ahead. Now would be the perfect opportunity to take the bitch...and kill the boy while they were preoccupied with the dead. 

“Dominic,” Rick said. “Let’s go.” 

Or not. 

The dark haired man inwardly growled. Oh, how his finger itched to unload the remaining bullets in his clip on the sheriff. He turned and followed Rick inside. 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

It took a lot, but Rick and the others finally managed to the prison back under control. Unfortunately, one of the teenagers who was picking walkers off the fence managed to get himself bit and concealed it from the other’s out of fear. 

Luckily, the fences weren’t too badly damaged and were able to be repaired enough for them to be back in working order. So in order to prevent something like this ever occurring again, Rick and a few other’s arranged a meeting, formulating a plan to help save as many lives as possible. 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Rick let out a tired sigh as they finished digging the remaining grave for those who had died when Alexis came by.

She squatted on her haunches, coming down to his level and held out a bottle of water. “I had to get away from that smell, so, I brought you this.” 

Rick tossed the shovel aside and grabbed the bottle from her hands. 

“Thank you,” He said before downing the bottle of water. “Get used to the smell, they’ll probably be doing that for days.” 

“Rick, I need to ask you something,” She began hesitantly if she were afraid to say the words. “I’m sure this is just me overthinking things, but, um, the other day during all of the commotion Daryl had mentioned this ‘Governor’.”

Rick winced. He should have known she would bring that up. 

"You know, I probably wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but then they mentioned him again. And when I asked about it, they gave me the same answer you did.” She continued. “And I’m sure there is an explanation, but knowing me I won’t be able to stop thinking about until we clear it up. So, is there something you need to tell me?” 

Rick sighed heavily and climbed out of the grave.

“When I took you in, you weren’t in the right state of mind. I didn’t know how you would react if I had told you.” Rick started. “I needed you to get back on your feet, and when you were strong enough, when I knew you were strong enough I was going to tell you.” 

Alexis rose slowly. 

“What are you talking about, Rick?” 

“The Governor is a bad person,” Rick said. “He killed a lot of people, my people, good people, wanted my prison. And that sonofabitch is still out there, planning his next move. And there’s no telling what Hartley has up his sleeve.” 

Alexis’s breath hitched in her throat. “How...how did...I never told you Victor’s last name.” She said. “Who’ve you been talking to? Did Hershel tell you what I had told him?” 

“Just his name, nothing more.” He said. “But I wish I’d known sooner.” 

Alexis took a step back away from Rick, her pulse fluttered in a combination of nerves and panic. 

“But how do...oh, my god.” She sniffled. “Oh, my god, I feel so stupid. You know him. Don’t you?” 

“Alex-”

“Don’t you?” Alexis cried. 

Rick cringed and didn’t say anything, letting his silence be his admittance. 

“Of course you know him. You’re we’re a cop for Christ sake. How could I have been so stupid?” She said with a humorless laugh.

“I know Victor, and I know what he’s capable of, I didn’t want you to worry.” He said. “You’ve progressed so much these last few days, I couldn’t take that away from you. Not when you were able to come back. I had no choice.” 

She slapped him, hard. His head whipped to the side with the force of the blow. Her hand stung with the contact and her breath left her in uneven pants. The sound of her palm hitting his cheek echoed through the air, for a moment, time seemed to stop as Rick stood there, face still turned and eyes obscured by damp, messy hair.

Alexis gave an exasperated huff and turned on her heel to leave. 

"Alexis," Rick called after her as she began to stalk back toward the prison, but she didn’t even turn around. She had only walked a step or two when a large hand wrapped around her wrist and jerked her back. “Alexis, listen to me.” 

“How much longer did you plan on keeping it from me?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“It matters to me!” She cried. “How much? Days?” Weeks? And you couldn’t bother to tell me?” 

“I’m telling you now.” 

Alexis wrenched her hand from his grasp.

“That’s not the point!” She cried. “I trusted you. The one thing I’ve come to realize since I’ve been here, the one thing I knew in my heart was that I could trust you. Honesty is everything to me, Rick. It’s the only thing."

Alexis turned away and walked back the way she had come. 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis ran her fingers through Judith’s hair as she slept and softly said, “I don’t feel hopeless anymore when I’m with you.” 

Rick leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a moment until she sensed his presence and turned around. 

“She was overtired, but I finally managed to get her down.” She said. 

“Thank you,” 

She nodded silently and turned on her heel, heading out of the room but Rick called out to her quietly before he even had the chance to quell his own words.

"Alexis," he said and she slowed and finally turned to look over her shoulder. "You know, what you did for those people...for my children--thank you.” 

Alexis felt her heart swell a little with what she guessed to be pride.

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s really Carl who you should be thanking. If he hadn’t shown up when he did, there’s no doubt I would’ve been killed today. He’s valiant I’ll give him that. Puts himself out there for others. You should be proud of him.” She smiled softly. 

Rick chuckled lightly. “Yeah, Carl’s good like that.” 

He took a step forward, wincing slightly as he reached behind his back pulling out a pistol. “Here. Just in case.” He said. “I want you to be able to protect yourself when the time comes.”

Alexis looked at the pistol in his hand and then back at him. 

“I’ve actually never shot one before.” She admitted sheepishly. “Can...I mean...will you teach me?” 

He gave a quiet nod and holstered the weapon. “We’ll start once this placed is cleaned up.” 

"Rick?" she questioned, instantly concerned as she noticed a crimson stain forming through the sleeve of his shirt. “You’re bleeding.” 

"It's nothing," the man said. 

"Let me see." She said, wrapping slender fingers around his wrist. 

Grudgingly, the former Sheriff Deputy removed his shirt and allowed the determined woman to gently unwind the bandage he had applied upon returning to the prison. He winced as she let out a gasp at the ugly gash that marred his bicep, knowing he was about to get an ear full.

"Rick, when did this happen?" her voice was soft but held a sharpness that betrayed her anger. 

"It happened when we were out on the run.” He said. “Ran into a few problems,” 

Alexis immediately grabbed a few bandages and a small bottle of alcohol that were laying on the small stool. 

"Sit down," she instructed, pointing to the bed. 

Her clothes were still dirty and she was still covered in blood, except for her hands and face which she had washed once everything had settled down. 

"Wouldn't it be better for you to clean up first?"

She shook her head stubbornly, refusing to budge when someone was in need of medical attention. 

"This won't take long."

Too tired to argue, he did as he was told, sitting on the edge of the bed while Alexis sat next to him and began poking and prodding around the cut gently, asking if certain things hurt. When she was finally satisfied with her cursory exam, she began cleaning over the gash. She noticed a slight catch in Rick’s breathing as the alcohol made contact with his skin but when she glanced at his face, he was staring at the wall, his face giving nothing away.

Alexis drank in his form, eyes fixing on his face and then sweeping over pale skin with paler scars marking parts of his torso. His body was sleek, slender, not built and bulky but wiry...wait...why was she checking him out period? 

Alexis banished the thought as she began to feel that weird, unsettling silence start to creep between them but she wouldn't let it, not when they finally had the chance to talk it out.

"I'm sorry I got mad at you earlier, for hitting you." she said softly, her eyes focusing on the dirt particles she was removing from the tender tissue. “But after some hard thinking I understand why you had to keep it from me.”

Her words made Rick shift eyes of blue to her, regarding her for a second before he spoke.

"It's alright. I'm sorry I didn’t come to you sooner about it.” 

"I don't want it to get that way again," she said as she began to wrap a fresh bandage around his bicep. "Promise me that the next time something important comes up, we'll talk and not let it turn into an ugly mess like this."

"Fair enough," Rick said, closing his eyes as the strangely pleasant tingle of her warmth resonated throughout his shoulder joint. "I suppose I was just caught off guard by the whole situation. I guess I was unprepared for that."

“When Victor locked me in that room, I was so scared.” She said quietly. Rick opened his eyes. “I was so scared of dying. Pathetic. Screaming.” 

“Of course you were scared.” Rick said. “There’s no one who isn’t afraid to die.” 

Alexis remained silent a long moment, unsure of what to say and secured the end of the bandage by folding it over and tying a knot in the end. Rick finally broke the silence. 

He fixed her with his gaze, sincerity brimming in his blue eyes. 

"Hey, you're doing fine. You already did surprisingly well and I think we all saw proof of that."

Alexis fought the urge to look away in embarrassment and she gave him a shy smile when she found his gaze locked on her face. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the warmth of the thin mattress beneath her. His face was inches from hers and he showed no signs of moving. 

Rick knew he should stand up, for sitting here was like playing with fire, and yet he could not look away from the hypnotic depths of her blue eyes. He had never seen eyes that color, a sparkling shade of pacific blue, and right now they were fixed on him, reflecting mixed emotions of uncertainty and curiosity.

His eyes were drawn to those curving lips, so lush and full. 

Alexis watched his blue gaze refocus a little further down her face as his head dipped dangerously low. She was not in the ideal position to resist with her back up against the bed frame, and honestly, she didn't think she wanted to stop him anyway. His face was coming ever closer to hers. She could feel his breath coming in warm puffs across her own lips and she parted them unconsciously in expectation. He was going to kiss her. Rick Grimes was willingly going to kiss her and she realized she wanted it. 

She lowered her head, intending to complete the healing with a soft kiss when a small figure appeared in the doorway. Carl stood there frowning. 

Alexis jerked away from Rick, hoping he hadn't noticed what they were about to do. The moment between them was broken as Alexis hastily got to her feet, grabbing the bloody bandages with all the dignity she could muster, turning her back on him to clear her own head and allow him to pull himself together as well. Rick's half lidded eyes opened wide at the realization of what had almost happened, and lamented the fact that it hadn't.

Carl turned to his father, a look of disgust on his face and said, “If you were the one who died, I really doubt mom would have found a replacement so fast.” 

“Carl.” Rick scolded. 

Alexis swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat.

"I should go clean up," she announced as she finally turned to look over her shoulder. “Just don’t strain it or you’ll start bleeding again, okay.” 

Rick followed her movements, head turning to watch her walk out of the room. 

"Alexis," he called, causing her to pause.

He flexed his arm experimentally to find it was in perfect working order.

"Thank you."

She simply nodded and left the room to the restrooms. 

In his private chamber, Vasquez dropped his flak jacket on the bed and closed the drapes to his room. The two pleated panels of fabric don’t quite meet, and when he puts his eye to the two-inch gap, he has a clear view of the entire first floor of Block C, with the exception of blind spots, and the woman is not in sight. 

Finally, no more than a minute had passed and he saw her, bloody bandages in hand. No doubt coming from the sheriff who took him in. He stepped back into the room, lest she glance up and see him. The woman must be halfway down the shadowy hallway by now. 

Although he wasn’t holding the revolver with which he had killed the walkers, it might be tucked under his belt. If she tried to flee, he would draw the weapon and shoot her dead before she got far.

But he wouldn’t shoot her dead. He couldn’t. She was Victor’s pet. He’d pop her in the leg, bring her down, and take her captive. He’d want to play with her first before handing her over to him. What fun he will have when he wraps her in chains again. And if she fought him, he’d pistol-whip the little bitch into submission. Finished observing, he moved briskly down the metal steps. Down the hallway and towards the woman’s destination. 

Alexis stood before the sink, working the hand pump before splashing the cold water on her face and looked into the mirror for help. How the hell had she gotten into this mess? 

Her hands came down to the edges of her shirt, preparing to pull the shirt off to wash it but stilled at a familiar noise coming from outside the dark hallway. A repetitive “clink” and “clunk” produced by a cam, a little lever that kept a lid closed or opened securely. 

Sweat-damp blond hair was pasted to the side of Alexis’s face. Her delicate features were salt-pale and clenched in anxiety, and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut behind the blindfold.

Alexis was lying face down on the mattress, atop the sheets and the blankets. Her wrists were handcuffed behind her. A second pair of handcuffs secured her ankles. Linking both of those shiny steel restraints was a shackling chain. 

The young woman feet beside her, Jena— terror had reduced her to the condition of a girl— was murmuring so softly that the words couldn’t be heard even from a distance of inches, yet so urgently that the meaning was harrowingly clear. It was a prayer, one that Alexis had recited on numerous nights long ago: a prayer for mercy, a plea to be delivered from this horror. Already, half of Jena’s petition had gone unanswered. Alexis’s throat tightened with anguish, and she could barely speak: “Stay strong.” 

Jena’s eyelids sprang open, and her hazel eyes rolled like those of a terrified horse, wide with disbelief. 

“All dead.”

“Ssshhh,” Alexis whispered.

“Blood. His hands.” 

“Ssshhh.”

“Stank like blood.”

Alexis quickly turned to her side to test the handcuffs on her wrists. Securely locked. With fettered hands and fettered ankles linked by a chain, she was thoroughly hobbled. She wouldn’t be able to stand, let alone walk. 

The cell door opened. 

Footsteps arose inside: boot heels ringing off the cold dirt floor as he moved off to her right, deeper into the room, and she rolled her head, relying on her hearing to follow him. If he was breathing hard, either with excitement or with the rage that she had sensed in his approach, Alexis couldn’t hear him. With one ear pressed tightly to the dirt floor, she was half deaf. The hammering of her heart against her breastbone echoed tympanically within her, one that she was certain he could hear. 

“Please,” The girl pleaded. 

What’s that bastard planning on doing to Jena? 

“Get away from her,” Alexis finally said. 

“No,” She sobbed. 

“Stop, she’s just a child.” Alexis pleaded. “Take me. Just take me.” 

"Wait!"

Jena screamed. 

Alexis struggled helplessly from her restraints. 

Jena cried out again— a terrible wail of despair, pain, and horror. It was not a scream for help or even a begging for mercy, but a plea for release at any cost, even death. 

She was overcome by a compulsion to scream with Jena as a dog wailed in sympathy when it heard another dog suffering, a primal need to howl in misery at the sheer helplessness of human existence in a universe full of dead stars, and she had to fight that urge. 

Jena’s scream spiraled into a bawling for her mother. And then sudden quiet. Bleak silence.

Alexis’s stomach cramped painfully, not with revulsion or disgust but with guilt, with failure and futility and sheer black despair. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“You look so glum,” He said. 

Alexis didn’t reply. 

“You’re feeling like such a failure, aren’t you? You’ve failed poor Jena, yourself, and God too, if He exists.” 

She was crying. Through the many months since she had come under Victor’s thrall, she had felt tears welling more than once, and she had repressed them. But she couldn’t dam this hot flood. She despised herself for crying— but only briefly. These bitter tears were a welcome admission that there was no hope for her. 

They washed her free of hope, and that was what she wanted now, because hope led only to disappointment and pain. Great wet sobs shook Alexis so hard that her chest began to ache worse than her neck or her restrained limbs. Her throat soon felt hot and raw. She shuddered uncontrollably, and her hands spasmed into frail fists but then opened and grasped at the air behind her back as if her anguish were a cowl that might be torn off and cast aside.

“You’re a sick sonofabitch.” 

Though she couldn’t see it, he smiled and said, “The last thing I expected you to be was tedious.” 

“Bastard.” 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he said amiably, clearly amused by her, “but it just won’t work. You’re hoping one insult or another will set me off. As if I’m some hair-trigger psychopath who’ll just explode if you call me the right name, push the right button, maybe insult my mother or say nasty things about the Lord. Then you hope I’ll kill you fast, in a wild rage, and get it over with.” 

Alexis realized that he was right, although she had not been consciously aware of her own intentions. Failure, shame, and the helplessness of being shackled had reduced her to a despair that she had preferred not to consider. Now she was sickened less by him than by herself, wondering if she was a quitter and a loser. 

Then she heard the footsteps approaching. She had to turn her head slightly, straining her neck, to keep track of him. 

He crouched beside his restrained captive and strayed to the pocket of his flak jacket to retrieve his zippo, flipping the silver lid open and then a hurting it repeatedly with his thumb, looking for a loose link in one of the chains or a handcuff left open and unnoticed until now. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Fuck you.” 

Alexis let out a pained scream as her body convulsed on the mattress, two thin metal electrodes pressing firmly against the small of her back, sending a surge of electricity through her body. With a note of impatience, he said, “I asked you a question, woman. You can either answer it-or I’ll slice off a piece of that pretty little face of yours."

Alexis gasped and choked as she tried to recover, tears soaking through the blindfold. 

"What is your name?"

“Alexis!” 

With a smile, he said, “In your heart, Alexis, deep in your heart, do you truly believe that God really exists? Be truthful now, not just with me but with yourself.” 

At one time— not long ago— she had been just barely sure enough of what she believed to answer Yes. Now she was silent. 

“Even if God exists,” He said, “does He know that you do?” 

Her hands shook uncontrollably and she was as pale as a ghost as the man entered the bathroom. Nausea hit her in relentless waves, and she fought the urge to heave, to purge those poisonous memories from her body. 

“Everything all right?” he murmured as he stood in the doorway. 

Everything stopped moving. The room turned cold and silent. She heard her heartbeat, a deafening uneven thud, pulsing an icy pain through her veins chilling her to the bone. 

He was handsome, a perfectly proportioned man, lean but muscular, with blue eyes that were a beautiful contrast with his dark hair— nothing crazy in his clear eyes— broad clean features, and a nice smile.

She stepped back, pressing her palms against the wall behind her. Panic shot through her. Every nerve stood on edge, ready to fight. 

"Uh…yeah. I was just...cleaning up." she said. 

Alexis tried unsuccessfully to see some sign of madness in his eyes. Such a merry shade of blue. 

“You look like you could use another shirt,” He said. “I have one back in my cell if you need one.” 

“No, thanks,” she said to the offer of a clean shirt. 

“It’s no trouble,” he graciously assured her.

“I said no,” Her voice was small, betraying the fear that threatened to take her over. She was a puddle of fucking anxiety, not the fierce intimidating woman she needed to be to scare him off. 

“Suit yourself,” He said.

He stared at her for perhaps half a minute and then said, “Alexis, right?” 

She gave a slight nod.

“You can call me, Dominic. Dominic Vasquez.” He held out a hand. 

Alexis refused to shake his hand and tried to keep her eyes on him, show no weakness. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Daryl quickly brushed past the man and into the bathroom. 

“Gotta take a piss.” He said. 

Alexis took the chance to slip out of the large bathroom, flattening herself against the wall as an attempt at avoiding body contact with the man. 

“Until next time, Allie.” He smirked. 

Oh, Jesus.

She walked out of the bathroom as fast as her legs would carry her. She glanced over her shoulder fearfully to see the man leaning through the doorway. The smirk on his lips told Alexis that he was quite amused by the whole encounter. 

Their eyes met for a moment, blue staring down blue, and then he was gone, retreating back into the restroom. She tried to orient herself in the corridor. She needed to get out of here. She steadied herself on the wall beside her, seemingly unable to move forward another inch. 

She vaguely remembered hearing Sasha call her name before she was at her side, taking her by the arm to break her out of her trance. She came into focus, and she tried in vain to mask the fear the plagued her. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her face lined with concern. 

“N-nothing...I’m fine.” She pulled her arm from her grasp and escaped down the hallway that led to the outdoor catwalk. As soon as she stepped outside, she took a deep breath of the night air. She was dizzy, her fingers were tingling, and she knew from experience she was on the verge of hyperventilating. The cool air washed over her skin, which was now covered by a thin sheen of perspiration, a remnant of the past few minutes of sheer panic. A sob escaped her and she crumbled to her knees, the floor cold and hard.


	8. Chapter 8

He was a sick bastard. A pathetic and lonely sick bastard. He was angry at himself for losing his grip on the emotions he had fought so hard to lock away, but at the same time, he was a little mystified that Alexis hadn't stopped him, had almost welcomed him.

With a groan he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to keep his thoughts free of the blonde hair woman, but failing. He proceeded to lay there, minutes stretching to hours, until sleep finally claimed him. Even then he could not escape, because his dreams were haunted by her blue eyes.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

 

Alexis jolted awake. Air rushed in and out of her lungs, feeding the lightheadedness. Her skin crawled, tingling with sweat. Her breathing was ragged and uneven. She stumbled into the corner of the room, holding herself up by the sink. The person she saw in the mirror was someone she knew, someone she hadn’t seen in a while. Her eyes were tired and dark, her skin flushed from the nightmare.

 

She grabbed a bottle of water and splashed some water on her face, the chill simultaneously cooling her and bringing her back to the present. Slowly, the events of the night came back to her. Pain crept through her. God, the pain was so intense, coursing through her veins with every heartbeat of her heart. Her stomach writhed at the memory of the physical and emotional torment that man had put her through.

 

Dominic Vasquez.

 

Could he be one of the men in Victor’s coterie? If so, he was doing a fine job concealing his inner demon. Maybe he was working now to recast himself from the role of savage stalker into that of a normal. Some sociopaths could put on a false persona that was more convincing than the best performances of the finest actors who had ever lived, and this man was probably be one of those.

 

She’d come full circle...somewhat. After all Rick’s assurances that she was safe, that she couldn’t be hurt by them anymore, she was right back where she’d started. She’d be looking over her shoulder, waiting for them around every corner.

 

She needed to get back in control. And she needed a game plan. But who could she tell? Beyond that, what would she say? The man who raped and tortured her repeatedly was in the fucking prison.

 

She’d been wrestling with the prospect of going to Rick or anyone for that matter. But what evidence did she have implicating him of such crimes? The sound of a fucking zippo lighter and a pet name?

 

Hell, how was she going to get through this? She could barely look at the man without having a full-blown nervous breakdown. Now she needed to live under the same roof, with him! She splashed more water on her face and toweled off before returning to the bed. She fell heavily onto the bed, curling up with the blanket that was unnecessary on the warm night.

 

She tried to go back to sleep but her mind was too full of thoughts of the newcomer to relax, so she laid awake until her room was flooded with the blue gray light of morning. She was exhausted, but could not sleep, instead passing the time staring at the ceiling until sleep had claimed her.

 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

 

He stretched, and yawned while surveying the area. At ground level, anyway, the wind had died. The air was still and moist. It smelled of wet grass, earth, moldering dead leaves, and pine forests.

 

Vasquez turned and headed back toward the prison-and discovered odd tracks on the ground. As he stood staring at them, a frown pooled and deepened on his face. The ground was shale, but during a quick and heavy rain, mud washed out from the surrounding area.

 

Here and there it formed a thin skin atop the stone, not soupy but dark and dense. In this skin of mud are boot impressions, size 11. Victor. He had crossed the area more than once. He saw a place where he stood for a while. Evidently Victor spoor date from after the storm. He crouched beside the tracks and placed his fingers to the cold mud. He could feel the hardness and smoothness of the treads that stamped the marks.

 

Rubbing his muddy fingertips together, Vasquez rose to his full height and slowly turned in a circle, studying the surrounding land. Victor— if it was Victor— was gone.

 

Dominic Vasquez stood motionless. Listening. Watchful. Breathing deeply, seeking scents. Then for a while he inhaled through his open mouth, catching what he can upon his tongue. He felt the moist air like the clammy skin of a cadaver against his face. All his senses are open wide, irised to the max, and the freshly washed world drains into them. Finally he can detect no harm in the morning.

 

The trees still dripping. The mists rising. The spent clouds scudding fast toward the southeast. Vasquez decided to abduct Alexis McKay immediately. He will haul her into the ‘tombs’, make her lie face down on the cement, and bind her, so he won’t have time to play.

 

As he hurried toward the prison, he was startled to hear his thudding heartbeats chasing one another. He was never afraid, never. With Victor, however, he had been unsettled more than once. A few steps into the prison, he halted, getting a grip on himself.

 

Now that he was inside again, he didn’t understand why abducting her seemed to be such an urgent priority. Intuition. But never has his intuition delivered such a clamorous message that has left him this conflicted. The woman is special, and he so badly wanted to use her in special ways. He is never afraid. Never. Even being unsettled like this is a challenge to his dearest image of himself.

 

But Victor does not rule Dominic Vasquez and never will, because he had no illusions about the nature of existence, no doubts about his purpose, and no moments of his life that ever require reinterpretation when he has the time for quiet reflection. Therefore, he will not allow this man to spook him. For a few minutes, he had lacked his usual self-confidence. Now he had it back.

 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

She woke up to the sound of children’s laughter wafting into the room. Her smile faded when she rose. Her head was throbbing as if she’d spent the night drinking instead of crying. She reached for her knife from beneath her pillow and placed it into its leather sheath that was strapped to her left thigh. She took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together before stepping out into Cellblock C. She could do this.

The second she stepped out, Dominic was there. He stopped a few feet away, a distance she assured herself was safe. Her stomach tensed. An uncomfortable sensation prickled under her skin.

“Ah, you’re awake, you sleepyhead.” He said, “I thought it might take a brass band to bring you around.”

 

Stay strong. No fear. No fear.

 

She may be frightened by him and even repulsed by him, but she found him alluring. He had no doubt about that. Everyone was fascinated by bad boys.

 

“Long night,” She finally said.

 

She started to leave but he blocked her passage. “I was hoping I could speak with you, actually.”

“If you haven’t noticed by now, things have been rather hectic after yesterday’s incident. I’m trying to do my part to contribute and so should you. So instead of wasting time standing here, you should be out there helping.”

“Agreed. I’ll be on my way as soon as I can have a moment of your time.”

She sighed, her aggravation growing the longer she stayed in this holding pattern with him.

“People died yesterday, children even.” Alexis said solemnly. “But I assume that doesn’t have an effect on you now does it?”

She had no proof that this was indeed the man who’d caused her so much misery, but he was the best lead she had, and if he was involved, she probably wouldn’t be getting very far with a polite line of questioning.

Unfazed, he fished the silver zippo lighter from his flak jacket causing her to tense, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

A sudden smile made Dominic look almost like a boy, one given to puns and pranks, collector of baseball cards, rider of bikes, builder of model airplanes, and altar boy on Sunday’s. She knew that he was smiling at what he saw, amused by her trepidation.

With trembling hands, she pushed past him but Dominic captured her hand and swung her close to him.

A wave of nausea washed over her at the sudden contact of their bodies. She tensed, certain that becoming physically ill on the catwalk would not bode well for whatever she’d hoped to achieve today.

“You know, Allie,” he crooned, bringing them so close his mouth was at her ear, his breath hot and moist on her skin. “When you start to make accusations like that, people will begin to think you’re paranoid or crazy even.”

Every place their bodies connected sent shockwaves of pain through her system. Years of loathing the men and the memories they’d given her were programmed into her brain, telling her body to fight. She clenched her jaw and took a deep breath through her gritted teeth, not because he wanted her to, but because she was determined to get through this without completely freaking out.

“You’re an attractive woman.” His mouth brushed against her neck and her whole body froze, panic taking over. Her focus blurred with the tears that threatened. “A real charmer under all that grime, I think.”

Survivor’s all around the cellblock c were in and out, but she couldn’t see Rick anywhere.

He can’t hurt you here. Logic’s voice was quiet and easily overwhelmed by the loud and alarming thoughts reeling through her mind.

He’d gotten to her twice, despite a circle of friends and a crowd. She could put nothing past him.

“Let me go. Please,” She pleaded. She started trembling uncontrollably. Ghost or man, she had to get away. When she thought she might actually scream, Dominic finally loosened his hold and released her.

She hurried out and down the stairs. She paused at the door, listening for his footsteps, but she heard nothing.

“Alexis.”

 

Alexis shrieked and spun around to behold Rick’s worried face.

 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

She lowered her hand from her racing heart.

 

“You alright?” He asked.

She tried to avoid Rick’s eyes. They bore into her with an intensity she was growing used to. “Um, yeah, I’m fine.” She plastered on a fake smile and reached for Judith cradled in his arms. “Hi. Honey.”

Hesitantly, she lifted her eyes to meet his and was surprised to find he was looking rather haggard. It looked like there were dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept much and his face looked gaunt and drawn. She couldn't remember ever seeing him like this. However, she had a feeling it all related to their almost kiss yesterday.

 

“Rough night?” Alexis joked, trying to focus on something else rather than the merry blue eyed man.

 

“You look pretty haggard yourself,” He said.

 

"I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She admitted, feeling the exhaustion a little more acutely.

 

She turned, but when she looked back, she caught Dominic’s tense expression, his hands fisting tightly around the railing.

 

As they stepped through the door to the courtyard, she wondered if the awkwardness she was feeling develop between them was merely her imagination or if Rick was feeling as uncomfortable as she was.

 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

 

Oh Rick was uncomfortable all right. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before as a result. It had taken hours of battling with his own mind before he finally slipped into a fitful sleep out of mental exhaustion. He was so fatigued that he hadn't woken when he had planned and now he was here, trying desperately to wake up as they gathered in the outdoor confines of the prison for breakfast when he had wanted to be on the road by now.

 

The vibe between the two of them was undoubtedly different. He knew once this morning grogginess wore off, he would be even more aware of the tension between them and they wouldn't have the option of focusing their attention on weapon training instead of each other.

 

Today was going to be a very long day.

 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

 

As Alexis and Rick walked toward the makeshift kitchen, greetings and smiles from other survivor’s caught her off guard. She smiled back, surprised at being greeted with such enthusiasm so early in the morning and raised her hand in greeting.

 

Although Alexis truly didn’t see herself as a hero, many others did since the incident. She was no heroine, no mystery-novel-series character with just a colorful dash of angst and a soupcon of endearing character flaws and, otherwise, the competence of Sherlock Holmes and James Bond combined.

Keeping herself alive, mentally stable, and emotionally intact had been enough of a struggle for her. She was still a lost girl herself, fumbling blindly through the years for some insight or resolution that probably wasn’t even out there to be found.

A feminine voice emerged from behind them.

“I didn’t think the two of you were ever going to get up.” She chuckled.

 

Rick and Alexis both turned to find Michonne standing behind them with a smirk on her lips.

 

“Hey,” Rick said and pulled her into his embrace. “Glad you’re back. We could’ve used your help yesterday.”

 

Michonne pulled away. “So I heard. Daryl filled me in on everything this morning.” She said, then fixed her gaze on Alexis. “Boy, doesn’t that baby look good on you,”

 

Michonne’s lips twisted in a smirk as she gauged the effect her comment had had on the woman.

 

“You think so?” Alexis replied, her lips curving into a soft smile.

 

“I do,” She chuckled softly. “She’s like an accessory to you.”

Her cheeks now tinged pink from her comment. She couldn't help but feel a tiny bit flattered by her remark.

Abruptly, Carl stood up. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed his plate and left the table, ignoring his father’s confused and angry calls for him to come back.

Michonne smirked. "You know, if you really want to win him over you should try giving him comic books. He likes those.”

Alexis shook her head with a smile.

“You want me to bribe a child?”

Michonne shrugged. “Never hurts to try, just saying.”

“I hope you’re hungry.” Carol assembled a plate for her that smelled wonderful. On her plate was a plump vegetable powdered egg omelet, stippled with sautéed onions. On top were two slices of a firm tomato and a sprinkling of chopped parsley. “Come sit down.”

Alexis complied and took a seat at what looked like a shabby picnic table, the rough wood worn smooth by constant use. Threadbare cushions had been placed over the abrasive seats, making them more comfortable but they had lost their padding long ago.

“So, are you having fun out there with Hershel?” Glenn asked, his voice clearly holding a teasing tone as Alexis sat down. 

“Playing Old MacDonald, who wouldn’t?” Alexis said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

Everyone at the long table laughed.

Finally Dominic came and joined them. He sat across from Alexis, relaxed and self-confident and military casual in his BDU pants and olive shirt.

Famished only a short while ago, Alexis could hardly tolerate the sight of food. She knew that she must eat, so she picked at the eggs, but she would never be able to finish all that Carol had given her.

“Alexis this is-”

“How are you, Dominic?” She interrupted Rick’s introduction and forced herself to hold Dominic’s steady gaze.

“Much better now,” he murmured.

She harnessed all her energies to appear polite and unaffected, keenly aware that her reaction to Dominic’s proximity would be noted by those around them.

Vasquez ate with gusto but not noisily or sloppily. His table manners were beyond reproach, and he used his napkin frequently to blot his lips.

Alexis was deep in her private grayness, and the more Dominic appeared to enjoy his breakfast, the more her own omelet began to taste like ashes.

“So, Allie, Rick mentioned about taking you out and teaching you how to shoot this morning.” He smiled.

 

Alexis looked at Rick quizzically. “With everything that’s happened here recently and with Michonne gone most of the time we’re down a set of hands, we could really use the help. And with Victor still on the prowl, the sooner you’re able to defend yourself the better off you’ll be.”

 

“You know, Rick, I’m a pretty good shot myself. Given your stature here, I don’t mind showing her.” Dominic said, then pointed his fork over at Alexis. “I know this quiet place a little ways from here I can take her to. It’s the least I can do since you’ve graciously taken me in.”

 

She masked her disgust at the suggestion. Why, so if it did happen to turn out he was one of them he could take that opportunity to rape and torture her some more before handing her over to Victor? She hated him more than she already did.

 

Rick casted a sidelong glance at Alexis and noticed her body language had changed significantly.

The lanky Sheriff stared at him strangely, as if he knew something he shouldn’t, and he almost pulled the pistol from his holster the moment their gazes locked, almost blew him away without preamble. But he told himself that was misreading him, that he was merely intrigued by him, because he is, after all, a striking figure. Often people sense his exceptional power and are aware that he lives a larger life than they do. Back before the world went to shit, he was a popular man at parties, and women were frequently attracted to him. This man is merely drawn to him as are so many others.

Alexis opened her mouth to speak but Rick spoke first.

“We shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Besides, I need you on watch today. Think you can manage that?” He said. Previous he was outgoing. Now he seemed reserved.

“Hell, friend, sounds like fun.”

“Hey, maybe you can get Dominic to help you and Hershel out there with the pig pen,” Glenn suggested to Alexis. 

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and muttered an incoherent response.

Alexis took another bite of the omelet. It seemed greasier than before. Despite there being no butter and cheese, it tasted too rich, cloyed in her mouth, and she could hardly swallow.

She put down her fork. She was finished. She’d eaten no more than a third of her meal.

Dominic finished the food on his plate, washing it down with water.

Vasquez smiled again-and then turned his attention to her breakfast plate. “Do you intend to eat the rest of that?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll have it.”

He slid his empty plate aside and pulled her in front of him. Using the fork, he cute a bite-size piece of the cold vegetable omelet, put it in his mouth, and moaned softly in delight. Slowly, sensuously, Vasquez extracted the tines from his mouth, pressing his lips firmly around them as they slid loose, then reaching with his tongue for one last lick.

Vasquez could taste her on the fork. Her saliva had a lovely flavor-except for a faint bitterness. No doubt that’s not a usual component, just the result of a sour stomach. 

“You done?” Alexis said to Rick, hoping to get far away from that man as possible-even if it was only for a short while.

“Yeah, ready when you are.” Rick’s said without letting his gaze flicker from Dominic. He sat still, his muscles taut and unmoving. Finally he relaxed enough to stand and leave the prison with her.

“I’ll see you later, Allie.” Dominic winked.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

“You sure you ain’t gonna need me around just in case?” Daryl asked.

Rick shook his head.

 

“We shouldn’t be gone for more than a few hours,” Rick replied, casting a sidelong glance at Alexis who was loading a few bags into the back of the Hyundai.

 

The brown haired archer was silent a moment, a smug smile spreading over his features.

 

“Hey, if y’all just wanted alone time all you had to do was just say it.”

 

Rick shook his head at his friend’s shamelessness, but offered Daryl a smile of his own and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

 

“We’ll be back,” He assured. “Watch over things while I’m gone.”

 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

 

This was miserable, utterly, completely miserable. He would have preferred talking about his sexual history (or lack thereof) to this, this awkward, stifling tension that hung in the air so thickly that it was nearly tangible.

 

At first He had wondered if Alexis’s disinterest in socializing was simply caused by her lack of sleep. However, even after they had eaten, packed and drove a good forty five minutes, she still didn't seem any more talkative than when they had been in the prison. Any questions he asked were answered with single words or grunts, making conversation increasingly difficult and he couldn't help but wonder if she was upset with him.

 

Alexis wasn't trying to be short with Rick as they drove along the paved road. She too was aware of the tension looming over them just like the dark clouds in the sky but she was unsure of how to fix it. She wondered if discussing the issue just might make it worse. Or how to explain her concern’s without having him or the other’s thinking she was a basket case. She had a big problem to solve in a very short amount of time. With all this to occupy her mind, she couldn't help it if she wasn't exactly the chattiest person to be traveling with.

 

The road was on a flat expanse of land, broken only by a gentle hill here and there. They continued on, the road gradually widening the further they went out. Though she secretly mourned the loss of the view in front of her, the surrounding scenery was pretty enough to keep her visually stimulated with the grasses around them nearly knee high and deep green. She was beginning to wonder if they would ever reach their destination when she felt Rick press on the brake slowly.

“Okay, here’s the deal. You need to talk to me right now, or I’m heading back to the prison." Rick said, his voice shattering the silence that had been stretching between them for what felt like hours.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” She said, unsure how she could even begin to tell him, even if she wanted to. She could barely handle the onslaught of emotions that had been terrorizing her since leaving the prison. 

Alexis threw the car door open, Rick followed. 

“That’s bullshit. You looked like you’d witnessed a crime scene back there.” 

“I was remembering one.” She regretted the words as soon as she uttered them.

“Listen, if it’s about what happened last night-"

She shook her head. “That’s not why.”

He seemed to relax a little. “Then what’s the problem.”

“Geez, Rick, just drop it alright.” She said irritably. She turned and headed toward the back of the Tucson to retrieve the gear for this morning’s training.

Rick lifted his hand quickly and turned her back, forcing her to meet his gaze, intense and full of determination.

“You’re running away from something.” He said. “Did Dominic say something to you?”

She searched his eyes, wishing that somehow he could just know— just understand without her telling him. His face seemed pale and stoic, giving her no indication of what he might be thinking of her. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples to stave off the tension headache coming on. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now, alright.” She said.

I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me."

Alexis laughed weakly. “You can’t fix me, Rick. But thank you for wanting to.”

 

“Alexis.” His voice sharpened.

“I’m fine, seriously.”

“Fine.” He said, releasing his clutch on her shoulder. “I’m going to set up the targets, you keep watch.”

He shoved his hands through his hair. She took a deep breath. The day before she had berated him for the same thing. What a hypocrite.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

“This is a Glock G23. Or a .40 caliber Glock.” Rick said and held out the Glock. She grabbed it, held it in both hands— a weight that buoyed her. The gun felt good in her hands. It felt wonderful in her hands. “Now remember, always treat every firearm as if it were loaded. Even if you know the gun is unloaded, still handle it as if it were loaded and pointed in a safe direction.”

Alexis nodded mutely, signaling she understood.

 

“The safest direction to point a gun is always downrange.” He continued. “Make sure to keep your trigger finger off the trigger and outside the trigger guard until you have made a conscious decision to shoot.”

 

She nodded again.

 

However, when he circled around to stand behind Alexis, he had sensed her body stiffen momentarily and looked to find her biting her lip nervously. While she was still timid, she seemed more relaxed around him than she had been in the past, and decided that today he could perhaps push her a little.

 

Alexis gasped as he touched her, and her heart quickened as he guided her hands into their mandatory positions.

 

"Relax," he commanded and she had reluctantly nodded, seeming as determined as he was to overcome her fear of touch. "Your dominant hand should grip the gun high on the back strap, this will give you more leverage against the weapon which will help you control recoil when you fire the gun while your non-dominant hand should be against the exposed portion of the grip not covered by the gun hand.”

 

At first she just stood stiffly against him until he gradually felt a little of the tension drain out of her. He could feel her heart beating madly against his own chest and was tempted to run a soothing hand over her back but refrained. The movement might make things worse instead of better.

 

At his command, she was suddenly aware of how close their bodies were, how warm their bodies were. It made her want to push him away and get the hell out of there but at the same time, why did the feel of his calloused fingers on her hands feel so…natural?

 

“Stand with your feet and hips shoulder width apart and bend your knees slightly.” Rick continued as he let go, releasing her arms and taking a step back to watch her. Alexis nodded in understanding and did as she was instructed. “Now, raise your weapon toward the target and squeeze the trigger.”

 

Alexis screwed her eyes shut and squeezed the trigger, completely missing her target.

 

How do you expect to hit your target with your eyes shut?”

 

“I’m sorry!” She blurted, rushing to amend her actions. 

 

“You’re fine. Try it again, only this time with your eyes open.” Rick said.

 

Alexis nodded and got back into the athletic stance and squeezed the trigger, wincing as she heard the wood splinter beside her target as the bullet penetrated the split rail fence.

 

"Better," he said. "Now do it again, only this time try exhaling slowly before you squeeze the trigger."

 

Alexis complied and the effects were immediate, the bullet knocked the can off the fence.

 

“Oh…” Was all she could manage.

 

“Not bad,”

 

"Really?" she ventured, her smile bright and hopeful and Rick found himself smiling in response.

 

"Really.” He assured. “Just remember, the sound of gunfire will attract walkers, only fire if it’s absolutely necessary.”

Alexis nodded and looked down at the weapon in her heads. If Victor returned, she was ready, no longer helpless, for she knew how to use guns.

 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

 

Alexis jumped out of the car and strode up to Beth who was holding Judith in her arms.

“I missed you so much. Come here. Come here.” She smiled to Judith.

Coming out of the Hyundai, the woman had a gun strapped to her right thigh. It looked as if it might be a .40. This is a popular weapon with some cops. But this woman is not a cop. An amateur. Her Glock. He will need to be cautious. But oh, what fun he is having. Her gun only made the game more intense. Dominic had never been as intrigued by anyone as he was by this woman. She’s a real treat.

Dominic’s simple life is not often touched by mystery. There are things that can be killed and things that can’t. Some things are harder to kill than others, and some are more fun to kill than others. Some scream, some weep, some do both, some only tremble silently and wait for the end as if having spent their whole lives in anticipation of this awful pain.

This woman is an enigma, all right, as mysterious and intriguing as anyone Dominic has ever known. What new experiences he will have with her are difficult to imagine, and he is excited by the prospect of such novelty.

Once more, the game is on.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

“What do I do about, Carl?” Rick said to Alexis as they walked around the perimeter of the prison. “He’s testing me.”

“Maybe he’s just growing through a phase.” Alexis said.

“I hope so.” He said with a sigh.

 

“No, I see the way he pushes your buttons.” She said with a smile. “Have you talked to him?”

 

“At this point I really don’t know what to say to him.”

 

“Maybe he’s just lashing out to get your attention.” She said. Or it could be that he feels threatened by me. “Maybe you should spend some one-on-one time with him. It might do him some good.”

 

Rick inwardly sighed. He couldn’t just be a father to Carl, he had to be a father to everyone in the prison, so he couldn’t always give Carl as much attention as he would like. But Carl would have to endure this hardship, because in this world true survivors are “those who endure”.

 

“But what do I know, right?” She said with a humorless laugh. “I never had the pleasure of experiencing that with Aubrey.”

 

“Never?” he said gently.

 

Alexis shook her head.

 

“The last time I ever saw Aubrey, she was only two.” She swallowed against the twinge of sadness that surfaced every time she spoke of her. “Even before she was born, William and I buried ourselves into our work. The two of us loved to help people, you know? William was a Neuroscientist and I was Linden County’s District Attorney. The two of us worked long hours and were rarely ever home. Kate, my older sister, watched Aubrey full-time while the two of us were away at work.”

 

“Sadly, it seemed as though Aubrey was more of Kate’s child than ever mine.” She continued. “I was envious of their relationship. So, I planned to step down from my position as District Attorney to be at home with her full-time, that was until several family members of the victim’s targeted by Victor stormed into my office one evening.”

 

“What did they want?” Rick asked.

 

“They personally wanted me to be the one to put Victor away.” She said. “I’ll never forget the look one father gave me. So much anger, sadness and confusion. He begged, pleaded with me, offered me everything he had to make sure Victor would never hurt anyone again like he did to those girls. He claimed I was the only one who could dig up enough evidence to convict him. As much as I was ready to be home with Aubrey, I couldn’t turn them away, not when they so desperately required my help. And finally, when I had enough evidence to convict him that’s when…”

 

Alexis let out a shaky breath.

 

“I was supposed to be with her, you know? I was supposed to be there for her when the world went to shit. Be there to comfort her when she was scared, to reassure her that things would be alright. But it’s not okay. It’ll never be okay because I have to live with the fact that I was never there when I should’ve been.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

 

“Thank you.” Saddened by the thought, she picked at the rip in her shirt. “So much time has passed, I have a hard time remembering everything about her. I feel like Judith is one of the ways I can keep her memory alive. That sounds strange, doesn’t it?” 

 

Before Rick could answer, screams from the guard tower they’d just passed alerted them. Someone was in danger -- or so they thought.

 

“Wait here,” He commanded to her and drew his gun. Alexis nodded, her breathing picking up.

The tower door was closed but unlocked. He slowly pushed it inward. One hinge rasped. He climbed the steep stairs and froze. It’s funny how similar pleasure and pain sound. In this case, pleasure was the answer as Dominic was screwing one of the female survivors senseless.

Holstering his weapon, Rick inched out of the room as quietly and quickly as possible, only to return and find Alexis in the corner having a post-traumatic episode. She cried and covered her ears, trying to block the sounds of the woman's shrieks.

Rick knelt in front of her, troubled by her reaction. With some hesitation, he reached toward her and covered her hands with his, creating a double barrier to block the sounds.

The sudden contact shot remembered pain through her. Still, against every instinct, she let his hands stay, something in her not wanting him to let go. She clenched her jaw down, swallowing hard over the dry knot in her throat. Tears welled, but something inside her fought the reflex to fight. Her rational mind reminded her that he was no enemy, that she needed him. Like holding onto an electric fence, she simply waited out the pain and panic.


	9. Chapter 9

Victor sat on a footstool before her.

He cleaned up well. Showered, shampooed, shaved, and combed, he was presentable in any company, and any mother, seeing him on the arm of her daughter, would think that he was a prize. His black V-neck highlighted his sculpted shoulders and chest, and his worn out jeans fit his physique like a dream.

Alexis looked good too. She was dressed in black penny loafers, white knee socks, a pleated plaid mini skirt, a tie front halter sleepwear bra top.

Victor was pleased to see that she had regularly groomed herself in his absence, as she was instructed. It was not easy for her, taking only sponge baths and shampooing her glorious hair in the sink.

He constructed this room for others, who came before her, none of whom was in residence longer than two months. Until he'd met his Lexi, and learned what an engagingly independent spirit she was, he'd never imagined that he would insist on anyone staying this long. Consequently, a shower had seemed unnecessary.

"You're such a luscious piece." He told Alexis, and his voice is muffled by the soundproofing, as if he were speaking from inside a coffin, buried alive.

She did not reply or even acknowledge his presence. She was in her silent mode, as she had been without interruption for more than six months. These days, she never looked at him but stared at a point above his head and off to one side. If he were to stand up from the footstool and move into her line of sight, she would still be looking over his head and to one side, though he would never quite be able to see her eyes shift in avoidance.

"I want to hear you crying, lost and crying. I want to smell the purity of your tears. I want to feel the exquisite texture of your screams, know the clean smell of them, and the taste of your terror. There's always that. Always that." He said. "Once in a while, I brought one of them back to this room— and always for the same purpose."

"The most intense experiences of my life have all taken place in this room, Lexi. Not the sex. Not the beating or the cutting. That all comes later, and it's a lagniappe. First, I break them down, and that is when it gets intense."

Her chest was tight. She could breathe only shallowly.

He said, "The first day or two, they all think they'll go out of their minds with fear, but they're wrong. It takes longer than a day or two to drive someone insane, truly and irrevocably insane. You're my twelfth captive, and the others all held on to their sanity for weeks.

"One of them cracked on the eighteenth day, but three of them lasted a full two months. Psychological torture is so much more interesting and difficult to undertake than the physical variety, although the latter can be undeniably thrilling," He said. "The mind is so much tougher than the body, a greater challenge by far. And when the mind goes, I swear that I can hear the crack, a harder sound than bone splitting— and oh, how it reverberates."

"When they crack, some of them writhe on the floor, thrash, and rend their clothes. They tear at their hair, Lexi, and claw their faces, and some of them bite themselves hard enough to draw blood. They maim themselves in so many inventive ways. They sob and sob, can't stop for hours, sometimes for days, sobbing in their sleep. They bark like dogs, Lexi, and screech and flail their arms as if they're convinced that they can fly. They hallucinate and see things more frightening than I am to them. Some speak in tongues. It's called glossolalia. Do you know the condition?"

Victor moved over to the bed and stood over the woman.

"Maybe I could get a word or two out of you if I set you on fire. What do you think?"

Victor stooped, lowering his face toward Alexis's, until they are nose-to-nose and says, "Maybe I'll put you in the ground and cover you up. Would you speak then, Lexi?"

No answer.

He waited.

He knew that she heard, but she was clever at maintaining a solemn face.

He smiled. He stroked her face reverently, tracing a path from her cheek to her chin. "You by far are the most stubborn, but that only makes you interesting. But I'll break you too, and when you crack comes, Lexi, it'll be like no other. Glorious."

He angled his lips over hers and took her mouth in a kiss.

A smirk etched itself on his face and he chuckled darkly as the two went for a walk in the moonlit prison perimeter. She had a radiant smile and he desperately wanted to take that away from her. He will soon shatter her completely. But she is tough, this woman, with surprising inner resources.

Good. The challenge thrills him.

The worst horror of his rampages was not the pain and fear that he inflicted, not the blood, not the mutilated cadavers. The pain and the fear were comparatively brief, considering all the routine pain and anxiety of life. The blood and bodies were merely aftermath.

The worst horror was that he stole meaning from the unfinished lives of those people he killed, made himself the primary purpose of their existence, and robbed them not of time but of fulfillment. His base sins were envy— of beauty, of happiness— and pride, bending the whole world to his view of creation, and these were the greatest sins of all, the same transgressions over which the devil himself, once an archangel, had stumbled and fallen a long way out of Heaven.

"Rick Grimes." He said. "You have something that belongs to me."


	10. Chapter 10

Restoration: Chapter 10

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Alexis was exhausted by the week's events, but sleep was little relief from the week she'd had. In sleep she was as tortured and when she was awake she was constantly looking over her shoulder.

Alexis wiped the sweat from her brow after hammering another hammer into the lumber and took a swig of her water inside her canteen. As she screwed the lid back on the stainless steel bottle, her gazed drifted to Dominic who was in the courtyard along with Carl.

Sociopaths like this man were drawn to beauty and to innocence, because they were compelled to defile it. When innocence was stripped away, when beauty was cut and crushed, the malformed beast could at last feel superior to this person he had coveted. After the innocent and the beautiful were left dead and rotting, the world was to some degree made to more closely resemble the killer's interior landscape.

Flustered and panicked, she tore the ears buds from her ears and shoved the MP3 player into her back pocket and hurried toward the two.

"Hey, Carl, do you think you can lend me a hand for a minute?" Alexis said.

"Dominic was showing me this dead turtle."

'I really don't think your dad would appreciate Dominic showing you something like that." She gave Carl a gentle push on his chest, prompting him to turn. "Go on. I'll be right behind you."

She glared at Dominic.

As hard as she tried, Alexis could see no beast in his eyes, only a placid blueness and the watchful darkness of the pupil, and she was no longer sure that she had ever seen it. He wasn't half man, and half wolf, not a creature that fell to all fours in the light of the full moon. Worse, he was nothing but a man-living at one extreme end of the spectrum of human cruelty, but nonetheless only a man.

With a smile, he said, "Cute kid."

She truly wasn't afraid of him anymore, at least not for the moment, although maybe later. Certainly later. Now her interior landscape was a desert under sullen skies: numbing desolation, with the angry flicker of lightning toward a far horizon.

"Why would you go and show him something so repugnant?"

He shrugged. "It was fun...watching the stupid thing crawl on fire inside it's shell. Really, Allie, you have to learn to get beyond these petty value judgments."

"Stay away from him. You don't look at him. You don't talk to him. Better yet, just stay away from all of us."

An amused grin appeared on his face. He could tell something within her had significantly changed. She was bold now. He wanted her to be bold. That made the game all the more interesting.

She hurried toward Carl, no less flustered than when she'd left. She told herself that she was not defeated, that she still had hope, that she would get the best of this murderous bastard one way or another. But her inner voice lacked all conviction.

"I'm really glad you were around, I could really use the extra-"

"Can I go?" Carl asked.

Alexis smiled and leaned forward to grab another piece of lumber. "What's the rush? I thought we could hang out and get to know one another a little more. Sounds fun, right?"

Carl frowned.

"No."

"Okay," Alexis said slowly. "Comics. A little bird told me you like comics. Believe it or not, I like comics. That's something we have in common. Who's your favorite comic book character?"

He was silent.

She sighed and tossed the piece of lumber down onto the ground and dropped her arms to her sides. "I'm trying here, kid, but you're not making this easy on me." She said. "If it's me being around your father, I promise there is nothing going on between us."

"What about the night when you were in his room?"

Alexis stared at him blankly, her jaw agape and no words coming out. What could she say? She shut her mouth and made an effort to mask the panic. Her mind spun, trying to find an answer.

"You're threatened by me I get it, but you shouldn't be. You only have one mom and I'm sure she was an amazing woman. But no one could ever replace her or you kids, not even me."

Rick was walking toward the two when he heard Carl say, "You're right. You're not my mom. You'll never be my mom just like Judith will never be your baby."

Ouch

"Carl!"

Carl turned and hurried back toward the prison, ignoring his father's confused and angry calls for him to come back.

Rick turned his head to Alexis before following after his son and said, "I'll talk with him."

"Yup." She said quietly.

Alexis closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

"What, things didn't go as well as you'd hoped?" The masculine voice said beside her, a voice she clearly despised.

Dominic seemed to find it amusing, chuckling softly.

Alexis had to keep from jumping right out of her skin, swallowing down the surprised 'eep!' that threatened to escape her lips and cursed herself for not being more aware of her surroundings.

"Fuck you," She growled and turned to leave.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

"Carl, come over here." Rick commanded. Carl stopped and turned to meet his father's heated gaze. "I raised you to know better. You know Alexis cares about you kids. She didn't hesitate when the yard was overrun with walkers and put herself in front of you to protect you. Why would you say something so mean and hurtful?"

"If Alexis is your girlfriend, I want you to tell me." Carl said.

He paused. "Okay, but she's not."

"She's not just another person here, though."

"She's a friend," Rick said. "Who's been through some really really bad stuff. I'm helping her deal with it."

Carl was silent for what seemed like a long time. He glanced back at the courtyard. Judith's giggles rang out from her perch on Alexis' lap. She was smiling, looking up at Alexis with adoring eyes.

He turned to his father.

"Does it make you feel better?" Carl asked.

"What do you mean?" Rick said, confused.

"About mom? Being there for Alexis, does it make you feel better about what happened to mom?"

Rick nodded and turned his gaze to the blonde woman playing with his daughter.

"Yeah," He said.

Rick and Carl stood in silence for a moment, before Rick spoke softly.

"I'm proud of you." Rick said quietly.

Carl turned to his father, eyes wide and said, "You are?"

"Yeah," He placed a hand on Carl's shoulder. "You saved Alexis's life the other day. You put yourself out there for another person. Your mother would've pitched a fit about you doing something so crazy and reckless. But she would've been so proud to see how brave you've become, just like I see you right now."

Carl lowered his gaze and smiled.

"You owe Alexis an apology. Understand?"

Carl nodded. "Yes, sir."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

She realized that she was arguing herself into taking the most dangerous course of action open to her, making excuses for going into his room. Going into the room was obviously crazy, Jesus, a totally crazy move, Jesus, but she was striving hard to rationalize it, because she had already made up her mind that this was what she was going to do.

She eased cautiously into the doorway and took her time peeking left and right. She was in cell block was deserted. No sign of the other's or the dark haired man with the merry blue eyes.

She shuffled from her room to the room that was two doors down in the middle of the upstairs hall, which opened onto Dominic's bedroom. A neatly made bed with a beige chenille spread. No pictures. No books or magazines, or any newspapers folded open to crossword puzzles.

This was nothing more than a place to sleep, not a room where he lingered or lived. Where he truly lived was in the pain of others, in a storm of death, in the calm eye of the storm where all was orderly but where the wind howled on every side.

At a glance, the room held nothing useful to her. She was sure to discover something worthwhile if she searched.

Under one end of his bed stood a black duffle bag. She rummaged through it, but it contained only socks, underwear, sweaters, sweatshirts, and a few rolled belts.

In the opposite side of the room, in the corner was a single backpack with two upper contained a package of gauze pads, a few green and yellow sponges of the size used to wash dishes, a small plastic squeeze bottle of some clear fluid, a roll of cloth tape, a comb, a hairbrush with a tortoiseshell handle, a half-empty tube of K-Y jelly, a full bottle of skin lotion with aloe vera, a pair of needle-nose pliers with yellow rubber-clad handles, and a pair of scissors.

She could imagine the uses to which he had put some of those items, and she didn't want to think about the others.

In the opposite corner, was a hard-plastic container rather like a fishing-tackle box. When she opened it, she found a complete sewing kit, with numerous spools of thread in a variety of colors, a pincushion, packets of needles, a needle threader, an extensive selection of buttons, and other paraphernalia. None of that was helpful to her, and she put it away.

For a psychotic killer, raging out of control on one level, Dominic was surprisingly careful and methodical when it came to covering his ass. An agent of chaos, leaving behind rubble in the lives of others, he nevertheless kept his own affairs tidy and avoided mistakes.

But she was still troubled by the feeling that there was something else in this room she had missed, something vital she should know about Dominic Vasquez.

But she had no time for additional detective work. Everyone would be finished with their supper soon. Before leaving the room, she placed everything back in its rightful place. It he came back early, he would know someone was rummaging through his belongings, and the hunt would begin.

Alexis came to her feet and retreated to the courtyard where everyone was gathered.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis pulled off her shirt and looked at herself in the mirror. The woman that stared back at her was not the same one that Rick had brought in. This woman was tougher, smarter, and carried the resilience Rick had always told her that had been within her somewhere.

What she had seen was the face of a fighter— no longer the face of a mere survivor, but a fighter. Every fighter sustained some punishment, both physical and emotional. Without anguish and agony, there was no hope of winning.

Alexis turned, presenting her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder as she glanced at the dark pink scars and second-degree burns that covered twenty percent of her body.

As a victim of abuse, restrained or curled in the corner of the room, she had hidden and waited out the passions and the rages of those men, always with dread but also with patience and with a Zen-like disconnection from the realities of time. Now impatience plagued her as never before. She wanted to see this man caught, manacled, hurt. Desperately she wanted this and without a single additional minute of delay, before he could kill again. Her own survival wasn't currently at stake but that of the people here at the prison, and she wasn't surprised— or made uneasy— to discover that she could care so ferociously about strangers. She had always possessed that capacity and simply used it in a situation that required recognition of it.

Something had profoundly changed her, and it hadn't been the brutality she was exposed to with Victor and his men. Viscerally she was aware that this unsettling metamorphosis had been a long time coming, like the slow alteration in a river's course— by imperceptible fractions of a degree, day after day. Then suddenly mere survival was not enough for her any longer; the final palisade of soil crumbled, the last stone shifted, and the destination of the river changed.

She frightened herself. This reckless caring. More lightning, more ferocious

"Alexis,"

She jumped slightly only to find Rick standing at the door.

"Shit, don't you knock?" She quickly reached for her shirt lying on the bed and slipped it back on.

"I did, twice." He said.

She let out a tired sigh.

"Uh, sorry. I guess I got lost in my own thoughts. What's up?" She asked, strapping her gun holster to her thigh.

"Everything okay?"

"Sure." She pushed by nervously. "I was just about to head out a relieve Maggie from watch."

She'd barely passed him when he caught her wrist, preventing her from leaving the room, which was all she'd wanted to do for the past twenty minutes knowing that Dominic was about to be off watch

"When's the last time you had a good night's sleep?"

"Rick, I'm fine."

"When."

"About 72 hours."

"You're off watch," Rick said. "At least until I've known you've gotten some rest. I'll find someone else to replace you in the meantime."

"Bullshit," She growled.

"You haven't slept. You haven't eaten. Hell, you've barely managed to talk to any of us in days."

She hadn't wanted to tell him, to worry him, but he'd ridden the week out with her. He'd been there for her the way no one ever had. He deserved answers as much as she didn't want to give them.

Alexis rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and paced the small room.

"The only reason I haven't cracked is probably because you. But Rick...I can't sleep." She said. "You had said to me that I was running from something. I am."

She swallowed hard, trying to hide the emotions that welled as she searched for the right words. She hadn't thought this out at all. Everything had happened so quickly.

She blew out a slow breath. "Alright...here it goes." She said. "I think Dominic was sent here by Victor."

The muscles in his face tightened, and his entire posture changed, as if Dominic was there and he was ready to fight.

Silence stretched over several seconds, then Rick stepped forward and grabbed her arm, urging her away from the room before Dominic's shift was over and managed to overhear their conversation.

He led her down a dark hallway, thankful that they were far enough from the others to have some privacy, even if their words became heated.

"Talk. Now." Rick said.

"I've been hesitant to tell you because I have no substantial evidence to back up my accusation, only my memory. But this man is different from the other's who'd like to just hold me down and show me what they were going to do. This one, he…" She trailed off, lost in the memory she was trying so hard to bury. "He liked to wrap me in chains, blindfold me so everything that he planned on doing to me was a surprise. Held a butane lighter to my thigh for what felt like hours. A butane lighter he just so happens to carry with him. Allie, that's the pet name he gave me. The same exact name he gave me when he encountered me in the bathroom on the day you took him in."

"Wait, he got you alone?" He said. "What did he say?"

She swallowed hard, searching for the right words. Dominic had been vague but his intentions were clear when he encountered her again in the cell block. She knew that now. "He implied that...I was an attractive woman. A real charmer. He also said people would begin to think I'm paranoid for accusing him of being a sociopath."

Rick took a step toward Alexis. "Why didn't you tell me?"

'I was wrong not to tell you. And I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you. I've seen how you are. You'll worry, overreact."

"Goddamn right, I'm going to worry. Jesus, Alexis I need to know these things." He shoved a hand through his hair, a gesture that always betrayed his growing frustration, usually with her. "You tear into me for keeping secrets when you yourself are keeping one from me! When someone threatens one of my people, I'm going to react. You can call it whatever you want, but I'll be damned if he's going to get anywhere near you."

He started to leave.

She rushed forward to stop him. "Rick, wait."

"We're done discussing this."

"Like hell we are." She stood in front of him and blocked him. "What do you think will happen once he gets suspicious? This man is a sociopath, he doesn't feel any remorse. He could use the people here at the prison against you as leverage. Or worse, Carl or Judith. If we do this, he wins. Can you at least try to understand that?"

"I think he wins if he figures out a way to get you alone again. Tell me that isn't something that worries you."

Alexis winced at the thought. "He's just trying to scare me now, and I'm sure that's what he's getting off on. Between you and Daryl, I don't see how he could realistically come after me." All rational reasonable thoughts, but she barely believed them.

"Well I'm going to make sure he doesn't."

His jaw tightened and bulged. Determination was written all over his face.

"No," She rushed. "Please, just don't. You don't know how he is. He's ruthless, violent. You have no idea what he's capable of. He killed a child, for God's sake."

"All the more reason to take care of him."

"With what evidence, Rick," She snapped. "I'm not a hundred percent sure this is even the guy. Just because the justice system no longer exists, that doesn't give us the right to commit murder. We're better than that."

That didn't stop Victor and his men from raping and torturing you now did it?"

Her throat became thick and tight at the thought. He was right. As much as she blamed herself for getting into such a perilous situation, deep down she knew no one deserved to go through what she did. She would have done almost anything to erase the painful memory from her past.

She shook her head. "There has to be another way."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Dominic went upstairs to his room. But he didn't step into the room. He paused. Very still. Then he walked to the backpack, stooped, and picked it up.

Vasquez wasn't prone to see omens and portents everywhere he looked. A single hawk flying across the face of the full moon, glimpsed at midnight, would not fill him with expectations of either disaster or good fortune. A black cat crossing his path, a mirror shattering while his reflection is captured in it, a news story about the birth of a two-headed calf— none of these things rattled him. He was convinced that he made his own fate and that spiritual transcendence— if such a thing could happen— ensued merely from one's acting boldly.

Nevertheless, the large backpack made him wonder. It had a totemic quality, an almost magical aura. He stood for a couple of minutes with his face buried in the black cotton canvas, breathing deeply at first but then delicately sniffing one exquisite nuance of odor after another, wishing that his sense of smell were twenty thousand times more intense than it was, like that of a Doberman.

Nevertheless, the aromas transported him into the night just past. He heard once more the soft popping of the sound suppressor on the pistol, the muffled cries of terror and the thin pleas for mercy. He smelled Alexis's lilac-scented body lotion, which she'd applied to her skin this morning.

Stupefied, he stood blinking. Vasquez suddenly felt terribly violated, oppressed, observed. He glanced back at the door, expecting to discover the radiant faces of accusing strangers.

This was not fun any longer. Not fun at all.


	11. Chapter 11

Rick, Daryl, Michonne and Alexis gathered in the library to discuss the situation with Dominic. Alexis sat the table, rubbing her tired eyes. She thought a new day might help. A fresh start and a clear head, except her head was foggy from lack of sleep.

Daryl leaned back against the table casually, crossing his arms in front of him. "This ain't right." He said. "The others should know."

Alexis shook her head with a sigh. "You know we can't do that."

"Why the hell not." He growled.

"Because we can't risk the other's alerting Dominic. If that happens, there could be casualties." Alexis explained. "Would you really want that on your conscious? I sure as hell don't. I have enough blood on my hands as it is, I don't need anymore."

"I liked you better when you didn't talk so damn much." Daryl said.

Alexis shrugged. "What can I say, I'm an attorney. I live to argue."

"Enough you two." Rick said. "It's settled. We're to keep this amongst ourselves for the time being until the situation is resolved."

"How do you propose we go about confronting him without risking any casualties?" Michonne asked curiously.

"I haven't figured that out just yet." Rick said.

"What about bait. I could draw him out."

"No."

His eyebrows shot up, like she'd lost her mind. Maybe she had.

Alexis stood up, her hands flat on the table "What? Why not? It's a lot more than what we currently have. Besides, I'll have my gun on me at all times. He won't be able to touch me."

"It's reckless."

"You know it's a good idea. It's the only way we're truly going to know if it's really him or not." She said, hoping to persuade him.

"Alexis, this isn't a negotiation."

"Why, because I'm the kind of girl who screams damsel in distress?"

"That's not it." His hand came down on the table hard enough to startle her. Rick turned his head to Daryl and Michonne and nodded to the door. "We're done for today."

The two nodded and left the room and he regarded her once again. "I'm responsible for you. If anything happens to you while you're on my watch that's on me. It's for your own good."

She glared, wishing she could level him with her stare. "Can't I decide what's for my own good? Jesus, I'm not a child."

He muttered a curse under his breath and moved to the other side of the room.

"What are you so afraid of?"

He turned away slightly, raking his fingers through his hair. The dark brown strands stuck every which way. The thought of losing Alexis made his chest constrict painfully, and he knew more than ever that he was falling in love with her.

"I'm not her, you know."

He faced her again as if he didn't hear her right. "What?"

"Lori."

He winced, his jaw tightening. "Alexis, you're treading on some mighty thin ice here."

She took a few unsteady breaths and moved to him. "I know you loved your wife. I see it in your eyes every time you talk about her. But trying to wheel on my life at this late stage of the game isn't going to work for either of us, trust me."

"I can't do this right now. I need...to cool off."

"We're talking about this." Her voice shook. She was losing her cool and wild scenarios swept through her mind. "I don't know what's going on in your head, but I wish you would talk to me. If you really don't want to, I can live with that too. But don't push me away."

He scowled and fisted his hands. "Jesus Christ. No. Will you just leave me be."

His words stung. She slapped her hands down to her sides. "You're right. I don't need this shit."

He sighed. "Alexis."

She turned and marched to the door. Before she could reach it, he outpaced her and slammed it shut in front of her. He caught her elbow and spun her to face him.

"What do you want from me?"

Her breaths came fast. Her heart raced with anger mingled with her steadily growing desire. She couldn't decide which emotion would win or which she was rooting for. But she wasn't here to fight him.

"I want you to trust me."

His jaw tensed and his grip on her arm tightened painfully.

"Why don't you trust me?" Her voice was small, almost unrecognizable. She weakened in his grasp, and her anger gave away to something else. A raw vulnerability that Rick had uncovered.

His lips fell open a fraction. Filled with nameless emotion, his gaze darted over her. Before either of them could say a word, he captured her face in his hands and melded their mouths together. His motions were rough, his lips a bruising force against her own, as if he were trying to erase the past.

They could get lost that way sometimes, forgetting everything. She inched her fingers around his nape and drove them through the silky strands of his hair. Her heart beat madly, silencing any lingering thoughts of protest. She couldn't outrun this desire.

She drank in his scent. In an instant his hand was tangled in her hair, keeping her in the kiss she had no wish to escape from. She leaned into him, moaning softly, surrendering to the onslaught of emotions that having his mouth on her conjured.

In that moment she felt like they had been together and known each other far longer than they had. She had shown him a part of her, and he was still here with her despite all of it. Inch by inch, he caressed her, claiming every expanse of bare skin with a quiet tenderness she'd never known, healing her with his hands and lips. The pain and the numbness gave way to relief, and then, to a familiar warmth that simmered below the surface.

She tipped her head back, a silent plea for his kiss. Somehow, he'd broken through her walls, overwhelming her senses with the pressing need to be possessed. His smell, his taste, and his primal hunger— she craved them all.

His lips parted slightly as he ran his thumb over the curve of her cheekbone. Her chest ached at his closeness and the wonder she thought she saw in his half lidded eyes.

She sighed. "Uh-Oh…"

"What?"

"Carl…"

He laughed a little into her neck. "Yeah, I know. I'll have talk with him."

"Ahem."

Michonne leaned into the doorway, wide-eyed.

Rick stepped back abruptly, leaving her dizzy and momentarily confused. For the first time ever, she witnessed him flush as he ran his fingers through his hair, seemingly embarrassed at having been caught making out.

"If you two are finished, we need to borrow Alexis for the evening."

"We?" Alexis asked curiously.

Michonne held up a bottle of Dominican Oaks Cabernet Nap. "Girl's night."

Alexis lifted her lips. She had one thing right for sure. She could use a drink. Having friends to talk to, even if it wasn't about her solidly heinous week, was pretty appealing to.

"Now you're talking." She said, walking over to inspect the bottle of wine.

"Michonne-"

Michonne beheld Rick's worried face. "She'll be within my sight at all times." She said, snagging Alexis by the arm and steering her back toward the entrance.

He paused and finally agreed with a slight nod.

"I...um...I'll see you later." Alexis said awkwardly.

Rick nodded. "I'll see you later."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

"Alright, last one." Maggie laughed. "What's the worst thing to say to a cop after getting pulled over? Alexis you're up first."

Alexis took a sip of her drink, savoring the bite of the liquor. "Can you just give me a warning? This is my fourth speeding ticket this week."

The girls burst out laughing.

"Sasha," Maggie said.

"If I show you my boobs, will you let me off?"

"Carol?"

"Could ya leave me alone for a sec? I just want to finish this beer."

"Karen?"

"Do you know why you pulled me over? Good, at least one of us does."

"Beth?"

"Are you a man or a woman? I can't tell." Her gaze was glued to something on the table.

The girl's laughed once more.

Alexis shook her head with a smile and leaned over Beth's shoulder to see what she was doing and said, "This workplace has gone 30 days without an accident". Her head cocked. "Interesting."

Beth gave her a small smile. "I thought we could use something like this around here."

"So what do y'all think about the new guy, Dominic?" Sasha asked. "He's a little merry for everything that's happened lately. It's weird."

"Maybe he's just trying to live life to its fullest." Beth said. "Besides, I think he's pretty cute."

"He did help clear out the walkers when the prison was overrun," Carol said. "He deserves a few brownie points for that."

Alexis scoffed and refilled her wine glass. "That's exactly what he wants. He's good I'll give him that but he doesn't fool me...not one bit."

"What are you talking about?" Maggie said curiously.

"Alexis-" Michonne interjected but she waved her off and took a seat in the corner of the room.

"It's all a charade. He wants you to trust him. You'll laugh at his jokes. Seek his advice. Share your joys and sorrows with him. But in all reality, he's not to be trusted."

Sasha leaned forward. "Why do I get the feeling you know something that we don't."

Alexis shrugged the motion nearly imperceptible from her slouching position on the chair.

"Really, Allie, you have to learn to get beyond these petty value judgments," She sang softly, mimicking Dominic's earlier words, except there was nothing funny or cute about the position he'd placed her in. And she hated him for it. She lifted the lowball to her lips, acutely aware of how much less she hated him the more she drank.

Michonne leaned down and took her glass. "You've had enough."

Alexis slapped her empty hand down onto the arm rest.

"I have a very long shit list right now. Do not make me add you to it."

"You're going to be on your own shit list tomorrow if you don't slow down. I'll get you some water."

Alexis sank back into the chair, defeated. Utterly defeated. She wanted to drown herself until she couldn't think about it anymore. If she couldn't permanently erase Dominic's face from her mind, she wanted to blur it out thoroughly for the next few hours.

Michonne returned with a bottle of water. She wrinkled her nose at it, but held it obediently in her lap.

"Why don't we change the subject?" Karen smiled.

"Oh, I have a good one." Michonne said, and then turned to Alexis with a knowing smirk. "Let's talk about what's going on between you and Rick."

"Not much to tell." Alexis shrugged.

"Don't even start, Alexis. I've seen how the two of you act when you're around each other. Dish, now." Karen pointed her little finger at her.

"We had our moment, but I'm really hoping this is once and done for him, because…" She let her face fall into her hands, which still smelled like him. She breathed in his scent and let the memory of their night settle over her.

"Alexis, what?"

"I don't know. It's been a bit of a whirlwind so I don't really know what to think. To be honest, girls, I don't know up from down right now."

"That's how love goes, baby." Karen shook her head with a smile.

Love? Leave it to Karen, the hopeless romantic, to even think it.

Rick was a magnificent distraction, but that had nothing to do with love.

"I'm not sure we're there, or if we'll ever be."

Karen cocked her head, a half smile curling her lip. "You never know. Love can sneak up on you in a heartbeat, even when you aren't looking for it."

Alexis nodded with a nervous smile.

"Suppose so. What's new with Tyreese anyway?"

Her soft smile transformed into a full one as she launched into the details of their relationship. Alexis settled back into her seat, trying to listen, but all she could think about was that four letter word. Except she had no room in her life for love right now.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis stepped back and wobbled slightly on her heels.

Michonne was there, stilling her with her hand at her waist. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." Laughter bubbled to the surface and she smiled, delirious.

Cellblock C was quiet and dark when they returned. Michonne helped her up the stairs and up into her room. She sat her down on the bed and helped her out of her clothes.

When Alexis looked up at her, the pity in her eyes made her even sicker to her stomach. She grabbed her loungewear from off the stool and quickly dressed.

"They're hideous, I know." She muttered. "I'm damaged goods."

"Stop." The authoritative bite to her voice gave her pause.

"Stop what?"

"You're not damaged, Alexis."

She swallowed hard, wishing she could believe her. "I'm simply stating the obvious. It doesn't make sense for Rick to want to be with someone like me anyway. I'm a mess. I mean, just look at me."

"Stop trying to come up with every reason to scare him off. If you think that changes things, you're wrong. One horrible experience doesn't define you. If it did, I doubt you'd want to be with him either."

She fell down onto the bed and wished the walls would stop moving a bit.

"Thanks Michonne...for everything. I'm glad you're here even if it's for a little while."

Michonne smiled and turned to leave. "Get some rest."

He stood in the dim light that remained, breathing through his mouth, licking his lips, rolling his tongue over his gums. The gloom felt good against his face and the backs of his hands; the shadows are as erotic as slender, trembling hands.

She slept soundly, sooty lashes resting gently against porcelain skin, petal pink lips parted invitingly. He moved off to her right, deeper into the room.

Alexis rolled onto her back, unaware of his presence as he approached the bed.

He leaned over her sleeping form, bracing his hands on either side of her head. He clucked his tongue at her and said with a chuckle, "Oh, Allie."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

The pressure of his grip on her wrists increased enough to be painful, and the familiar fear coiled in her gut. It was coming. The vicious sneer, an expression painted on by his smug satisfaction, his hatred. He hated her. He had to, to do this to her. She'd plead, but he'd pin her down. The same gravel in his voice as he gritted out his plan for her.

Except when she met his eyes they were different. No longer the dark round irises that haunted her. Confused, she searched his features until they solidified and recognition dawned. Dominic. The face, this body pressing down on her now, belonged to Dominic.

Her heart lurched seconds before the familiar pain. No matter how hard she fought, he'd always find his way in the darkness, taking what he wanted.

Powerless, she couldn't move. She couldn't run. Gasping for air, grasping for reality, She said his name. A questioning plea.

Then his mouth was on her, forcing his tongue past her lips. Feebly she pushed at him. He answered the weak effort with a snicker, his breath hot on her face.

"That's right, Hartley said you were a fighter. You get around, don't you? Does Rick know what a little slut you are?"

The mention of Victor's name conjured a memory deep and violent. "Please, no," She slurred. The words melted into the space between them, along with her fading consciousness.

He muffled her weak cries.

"Don't worry. I'll make it quick. I've had a hard on for you for days, Allie. If we're lucky, you'll remember it too."

She grasped desperately for control, to fight the paralysis that slid like cold molasses through her veins, making everything slow. Her lungs struggled for air, the effort to breathe taxed amidst the rising panic and whatever invisible enemy her body was fighting.

"That's a good girl."

Losing her grip, she was vaguely aware of him pressing her roughly through her panties.

No, no, no. God, no.

No one would hear her, but her mind screamed it until her vision went black.

"Alexis... wake up."

Alexis jolted awake, eyes wide as the now bright room came into focus. Her heart was beating too fast, as if some latent panic still lingered with her quickly followed by a dull throbbing in her head. "Damn the wine." She rubbed her temples and willed the pain away.

"Looks like you could use this."

Rick was standing beside her, holding Judith. She relaxed a little, grateful he was there at all. She sat up on the bed, wrapped herself in her comforter, and thanked the gods for the precious gift of what looked to be some type of herbal tea as Rick handed her a steaming cup on cue.

She glanced at the liquid in the cup and grimaced and at hardy and bitter smell. "What is it?"

"Feverfew, compliments of Hershel. It'll ease the headache." He nodded to her glass. "Drink up."

She sighed and took a long sip. She nearly spit the liquid out when she tasted the bitterness. "God that's horrible."

Rick smiled. Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she looked effortlessly cute in an oversized off the shoulder top and black leggings "Yeah, I figured you wouldn't drink it if I had told you how awful it tasted."

She leaned forward and placed the mug down on the floor beside the bed and reached for Judith but Rick stopped her. He rubbed the tender spots where the fingertip-sized bruises marked her right arm.

Recognizing a whisper of familiar worry in his features, she slipped out of his grasp. She cupped his cheeks, holding his focus on her. "I'm fine. Don't start with the guilt, okay?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Trust me, I didn't feel a thing. In the heat of the moment, all I can feel are your hands on me. It's all consuming, so don't start acting like I'm some wounded kitten."

She pushed off the bed and took Judith from his arms.

"You're right," He said finally. "Which is why I've agreed to go about things your way with Dominic."

"Oh," Her eyebrow lifting questioningly.

He sighed heavily. "Alexis, you're a strong and independent woman. Unlike anyone I've ever met. You prove it to me every day, no matter how difficult I make it for you. And I don't want to try and take that away from you, to bend you to do things that you really don't want to do."

"So what should I do?"

"I thought about that." He said. "I think it would be best if we lured him away from the prison, away from the others in case things go south. The feral pigs are still loose outside the gates; we'll use that as our chance. I'll assemble a group of four and from there we'll divide into two separate groups; one team consisting of Daryl and myself while the other will be-"

"Dominic and myself." She finished.

She giggled nervously, the tension of the situation obviously getting to her a little.

Rick closed the distance between them, holding her shoulders and stroking the tops of her arms with his thumbs, sending waves of relief over her.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I promise." He assured. "Daryl and I will be there waiting for him to make the move if he chooses to do so."

"Okay. I trust you."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Judith sat on Alexis's lap facing her while she made faces at her. "Ride that horsey into town, watch out baby, don't fall down!" She sang, lightly bouncing her on her leg before tipping her backwards.

Rick watched her a moment, a slight smile on his lips until he felt eyes on him and glanced over to find Carol watching him with an amused smirk.

"You're different." Carol said.

He frowned.

"Okay?"

Carol shook her head. "Not in a bad way. You just seem happier is all. It's nice seeing you this way. The two of you are good for each other." She glanced up to see the other children gathering around asking for a turn. "God knows she's good with the children, especially when it comes to Judith."

Rick smiled a little and grabbed a piece of deer meat off the plate sitting beside the Comal flat top where she was grilling the remaining meat.

"What does Carl think about all of this?"

His smile faded.

"He's resistant towards her, believes she is his mother's replacement."

"I'm sure he'll come around eventually." Carol reassured.

"Yeah, we'll see."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

"Oh man, this is sweet." The young man said, admiring the flak jacket Dominic had let him try on. He is in his twenties, at least half Mexican, and strikingly handsome. No. More than handsome. Jet-black hair, golden complexion, eyes as liquid as oil and as deep as wells. There is a gentle quality to his good looks that almost gives him an effeminate aspect—but not quite.

"Oh yeah," Dominic smiled. "Keep it. Consider it a gift for trading shifts with me on such short notice."

He doesn't suspect for a second that he's going to be dead in a minute.

"Yeah, no problem."

Dominic leaned against the wall and stared at Alexis who was engaging in a conversation with the woman samurai.

"Prettiest thing you'll ever see this side of paradise," Says Dominic, and he licked his lips. "Allie, I mean."

"She the missus?" asks the young man.

Time to startle him, see how he'll react. Will he begin to realize just how much trouble is coming? "Nope," Vasquez said. "No ball and chain for me. Maybe one day. Anyway, Allie's our... oh how should I put it...plaything."

The man is not sure what to say. He was definitely uncomfortable and trying not to show it.

The risk he's taking is enormous and titillating. Another survivor might enter at any moment, raising the stakes.

"She's pure angel," Said Dominic. "Porcelain skin. Breathtaking. Makes your scrotum twang like a bass fiddle."

The man gazed at him. Dominic relishes his expression.

Then he leaned forward, grabbed the one gallon jug by his feet, smiled, laughed, and said, "Allie and I had the best time together. Victor would kill me; literally kill me if he knew some of the things I did to her when he wasn't around. I could have let her to turn, but I didn't; brought the bitch back only to do it over and over again."

As he spoke, he removed the cap off of the one gallon jug and splashed the liquid onto the man. His clothes, his hair and the flak jacket he just received as an offering, were soaked with gasoline. The man could barely draw breath through the suffocating fumes.

"What the hell man?" The young man cried.

Vasquez stood and held the Zippo lighter that he'd been carrying since he was nine years old when he set his parents bed on fire while they were sleeping. He flipped the lid open and slid his thumb onto the striker wheel. "Nothing personal. It's just business." and he thumbed the striker wheel before tossing it to the young man's feet.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

While Judith napped peacefully in the shade, Beth took over while Michonne and Alexis walked around the perimeter.

"You okay? I haven't seen you this quiet all day." Michonne asked.

"I had a dream. I... I'm not sure what happened."

"A nightmare... like the others?"

She nodded quickly. She'd known about the dreams and how they crept up on her sometimes, as much as she wished they would disappear forever.

"Kind of, it was Dominic. Though it was different from the others...it felt so...real."

"Did you tell Rick about it?"

"Nah, I didn't want to burden him with another one of my problems. He already has enough on his plate as is." She said quietly. She shook her head to clear the images and tried to get a grip. "It was just a stupid dream. Must have been the wine."

"Whatever, we had a blast."

"That meeting put me on the edge." Alexis said, thankful despite the headache that her nerves were no longer as frayed as they were yesterday.

Michonne came to a sudden halt and held up a hand. "Do you smell that...something's burning?"

A scream ripped through the air. Michonne and Alexis stood tensely, every muscle wound tight in preparation to fight if they had to.

The screaming was shrill and terrible and louder now, louder because, as Alexis discovered when she turned to look back, a man was coming after them, a pillar of fire, totally engulfed. His bright arms stretched in front of him, blue-white tongues of fire seething off his fingertips. A tornado of blood-red fire whirled in his open mouth, dragon fire spouted from his nostrils, his face vanished behind an orange mask of flames, yet he came onward, stubborn as a sunset, screaming.

Michonne pushed Alexis behind her, but then the man abruptly veered away from them, and it became clear to her that he hadn't seen them. He was seared blind, chasing neither her nor Michonne but a deserved mercy. In the middle of the courtyard, he fell across the pavement and lay there, jerking and twitching, writhing and kicking, gradually turning on his side, pulling his knees up to his chest, folding his blackened hands under his chin. His head curled down to his hands as though his neck were melting and unable to support it. Soon he was silent in his burning.

"Oh my God." Alexis touched her hand to her mouth.

He was beyond their help, and immediately she turned away from him. Then she heard Rick's voice, like a light in the darkness. He hurried to join them where they stood.

"Are you two okay?"

"We're okay." Alexis replied quickly. "And the kids?"

"They're fine," He said. "The south tower is on fire and spreading quick."

"Dominic was manning that tower," Alexis said glancing down at the burnt corpse on the ground. "Is that him?"

"I don't know," Rick said quickly urging them to follow. "It'll have to have to wait."

On the ground, the charred body began to stir, deep breaths growing from deep within him.

"I got it." Michonne said. She drew her sword and drove the long blade into his skull.

They rushed to the south tower where everyone was working as fast as they could to put out the flames.

"We used what he had of the fire extinguishers," Carol said. "We could use what water we have left in the barrels."

"No, there has to be other alternative's we could use." Alexis said quickly. She glanced around for the nearest thing that would help extinguish the fire. "The soil Hershel and I use in the garden and the potted plants around here are free of flammable organic materials. It'll absorb the head and suffocate the fire. It's our best chance."

Rick nodded quickly and turned to Carol. "You, Maggie, Sasha and Tyreese head to the garden and gather as much soil as you can. Go!"

Carol nodded quickly and turned to leave, the other's following closely behind. Alexis yanked the tall flower plant from the ceramic pot and struggled to lift the pot.

"Here, let me help." Glenn said and grabbed one side of the pot.

The two turned and hustled to the towers room; climbing the steps as fast as they could. The smoke thickened and reduced visibility down to several feet. The air got hard to breathe. They reached the top of the steps, emerging into the room, followed by Rick and Michonne and tossed several handfuls of soil onto the burning flames. Minutes later, Carol and the others returned. Luckily, the soil they managed to gather was enough to extinguish the flames.

Alexis leaned against the wall and let out a heavy breath in relief.

"Nice work." Glenn said placing a hand lightly on her shoulder.

"Thanks." She mouthed as he walked out of the room.

One by one everyone marched out of the room until Rick and Alexis were the only ones left.

"I should go check on the others, see if they need help with anything." He said, breaking the silence.

Alexis nodded. "Yeah, you should go."

"You got a little soot on your face," he said softly, brushing his thumb against her cheek. She leaned into the simple touch.

"Rick," Daryl called from the bottom of the stairs.

A hint of a smile curved her lips. "Duty calls, Sheriff."

Rick groaned and pulled away. "Yeah."

"Go on." She giggled and gave him a gentle push toward the door.

Alexis turned to follow but stopped when something metallic caught her eye.

Rick turned his head to look at her when he could no longer hear her footsteps following after him.

"You coming?"

"Yeah, you go on ahead I'll be there in just a sec."

He paused, hesitant to let her out of his sight but grudgingly agreed when Daryl had called for him once again.

Alexis walked to the object, stooped, and picked it up. A Zippo. More than likely was the tool used to ignite to fire. She closed the lid, cringing at the sound it made as it shut. With her thumb, she brushed the soot off the front of the Zippo. The blood drained from her face. Inscribed in small letters said,

One down, Allie. How many more?

She flipped the Zippo over.

Meet me in the Tombs. Alone.

The weight that somehow she had brought this on herself, on all of them, settled over her. Because she had, hadn't she? Anyway she thought about it, all this came back to her.

She hurled the lighter against the wall. "You son of a bitch!"

The fire had been a ruse all along.

Sobbing with frustration, with anger, with fear for the people she cared for, and with despair for her own culpability if those people died, Alexis turned away from the room. Hurried down the steps. Around the building, back into the prison.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Carl cocked his head to the side as he watched Alexis stop outside Cell Block C's door. She was frightened and it looked as though she had been crying. But what piqued his curiosity was that her weapon was drawn.

He glanced over to his father, he was too preoccupied with the burned corpse to spot the woman he had such profound feelings for, to stop her and interrogate her on where she was headed with a loaded pistol in hand.

Curious as to what the woman was up to, Carl followed her at a distance.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Although satisfying, this interlude had put him behind schedule. He unlocked the "tombs" door and entered the dark corridor. He closes but does not lock the door behind him, allowing the woman to have access if she chooses to take it.

Who knows what she will choose to do?

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis yanked open the metal door leading to cell block C and shut it behind her. As she started to descend the steps she came to a halt.

The "tombs" door was cracked open. He was luring her inside.

She slowly pushed it inward. One hinge rasped.

No surprise; it was dark.

The darkness implied only negative outcomes, hence her lack of surprise.

She had told herself that she was being prudent. Listen. Wait. Be sure. Absolutely sure.

But then she'd been forced to admit that she had lost her nerve. She was cold, and the source of her chills was the ice of doubt in her guts.

She'd be face-to-face with him. Looking straight into his eyes. Would that make her hesitate? He had it coming. The bastard. She thought of Jena on the floor of the basement cell, dead. She could do it. She could do it. Into the doorway, across the threshold, into the tombs, she was not only ready to kill but prepared to die in the attempt to get him, and shut the door behind her.

At least now she had a gun.

No sign of walkers.

Still, she heard the sounds of the dead inside.

She felt along the wall. The gun was extended in her right hand; she was clenching it so fiercely that her knuckles ached.

No windows at all inside. Only a turbid leak of sunlight seeping through narrow casements or screened ventilation cutouts.

Alexis stood motionless, taking time to orient herself, trying to memorize her surroundings. She had heard of the "tombs" from Rick only once before, briefly, but had forbidden her from ever going inside alone. She could now see why.

There were holes in the walls. There were dirty, worn mattresses on the floor, and graffiti on the walls. There was trash. There were clothes and there were bones. It stank like an overflowing port-a-potty.

Trying to hold this clear image of the room in her mind, she stepped warily through the darkness, afraid of falling over one of the rotting corpses strewn about at random angles all over the hallway and would break an ankle or even a leg.

Whereupon, Dominic Vasquez would find her, dismayed by the mess and disappointed that she had damaged herself before he'd had a chance to play with her. Then either there would be turtle games or he would experiment with her fractured limb to teach her to enjoy pain.

She sidled to the left to avoid a face down corpse, until she came to the turn off at the end of the hall.

As her fingers finally reached the end of the wall, she was suddenly certain that a strong hand was going to come out of the darkness and cover hers, that Dominic was standing in the corridor only inches from her.

Frozen to her skin. Heart drumming like the wings of a frantic fettered bird, the beats so hard that they prevented her lungs from expanding, the pulse in her throat swelling so large that she was unable to swallow, Alexis broke her paralysis and turned the corner.

Dominic Vasquez wasn't there. She exhaled explosively, and leaned against the wall, and gradually her fluttering heart grew calmer.

If she ever suffered a killing bout of cardiac arrhythmia, the mere thought of Vasquez would be more effective at jump-starting her heart than the electrical paddles of a defibrillation machine.

She continued on.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

With her pistol, he will need to be cautious. But oh, what fun he is having. Her gun only made the game more intense. The blonde woman was somewhere in the tombs. He could feel her close.

He retrieved the revolver from his holster and glided quietly through the corridor where he stopped. He listened.

If she opened one of the cell doors, he would know, because several of the hinges made a dry ratcheting sound. It's not a loud noise, but it is distinctive. Because he's listening specifically for that corroded hinge, not even the growling of the walkers can entirely mask the sound.

Though Vasquez was not usually superstitious, he experiences a heightened sense of the supernatural, beyond anything he's felt thus far. His scalp prickled, and the flesh on the nape of his neck crawled, and his hand tightened on the gun.

After a hesitation, he leaned around the corner and looked down the darkened corridor. The woman was only a few feet away. Her back was to him. She had one hand on the wall and the pistol held out in front of her in the other hand.

He's jumpy, twitchy, and still extremely curious about her but prepared to put his safety ahead of his curiosity.

As close as she was, she did not hear him because all is concrete, nothing to creak. He aimed the revolver at the center of her back. The first shot will catapult her off her feet, send her flying with her arms spread toward the hard floor below, and the second shot will take her as she is in flight. Then he'll race behind her, firing the third and fourth rounds, hitting her in the legs if possible. He'll drop on top of her, press the muzzle into the back of her head-no, no, he couldn't kill her.

Lowering the revolver, he stepped into an open cell, lest she glance behind her and see him. His uncharacteristic fear, his eerie perception of oppressive supernatural forces, lifts like a fog from him, and he was amazed by his own brief spasm of gullibility. He, who has no illusions about the nature of existence. He, who is so clear-seeing. He, who knows the primacy of pure sensation. Even he, the most rational of all men, has spooked.

He almost laughs at his foolishness— and at once puts it out of his mind. The woman must be to the end of the "tombs" by now.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

In the hall were five doors. Two to the left and right stood open, revealing nothing but empty cells. But the remaining one at the end of the hallway was closed.

Alexis took up a ready position outside the door and put a hand on the handle and swung it open.

She jumped back and looked for movement in the blackness. She listened for sounds.

Nothing.

No, wait...she heard something.

She looked back the way she'd came.

No movement. That was good.

Seduced by a long silence that seemed to promise safety, she finally pressed on and turned the next corner-and walkers were there. Ten feet away. Near the end of the gaping hole in the prison, which was directly in front of her. Their backs were to her, crouched, and feasting on what looked to be a small fawn.

She froze. If one even turned, she would not be able to slip away before the walker glimpsed her from the corner of its eye-yet she was unable to move now while was still a chance to avoid them.

She was afraid that if she made any sound whatsoever, they would hear it and spin toward her.

The corridor held a drowning depth of stillness as a dam held water, with tremendous pent-up power and pressure on the breast.

When Alexis found the courage to move, she cautiously began to move back from whence she came.

"Alexis."

She spun around, finger on the trigger in expectation of an assault only to find Carl in the hallway. She lowered her weapon.

"What are you doing?" Carl whispered.

"You shouldn't be here!" She rushed, her eyes now wide with alarm.

"Neither should you." He said.

"You can't be here right now. I'm not messing around. You can't be here right now!" She whispered furiously.

Vicious snarling rose in the dark corridor.

"Oh. God." Alexis breathed.

Alexis took hold of one of Carl's hands.

Carrying the pistol in one hand, leading the boy with the other, Alexis crossed the long hall. She turned right at the next corner, holding tightly to the boy's hand. She could hear the galloping thunder of ascending walkers louder even than her own heart.

"Hurry!" She urged Carl, pulling him along.

To the door on the right. Into the boiler room. She dragged Carl after her, across the threshold, and slammed the door. There was no lock, just the spring latch activated by the knob.

Alexis caught her breath. Carl did the same.

She heard movement on the other side and took a step back from the door.

She turned to Carl and said, "I could have shot you. Do you have any idea how stupid it was for you to-"

Her sentence was cut short as Carl's eyes were wide with emotion.

"Carl," She spoke quietly. Her eyes skimmed the room. A large puddle of dried blood stained the cement floor followed by a long trail that never seemed to stop.

"This is...this is where mom died." Carl said quietly. "I...killed her. I shot her in the head before she had a chance to turn. It had to be me."

She holstered her weapon and with both hands, Alexis clasped the boy's face, leaned close, and peered into his beautiful blue eyes.

"Oh, baby," she said to Carl. "Oh, baby, sweetie, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

She let go of the boy's face and hugged him fiercely, loving him as she would have loved a son, as she wished she had been able to love her daughter, loving him for what he had been through, for having suffered and survived.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

When the moment felt right, Alexis opened the door. She eased cautiously into the doorway and took her time peeking left and right. No sign of walkers or Dominic.

She shut the door. "It's clear for the time being. It's best if we move now." Alexis said. "You need to head back to the others and find your dad."

"I'm not leaving," Carl said obediently.

"Carl, it's too dangerous."

"I'm coming with you!"

"Carl!"

"I'm coming with you!" He said. "I know these tunnels. You need me."

Alexis's jaw bulged, displeasure written across her features. She began to walk, pulling him toward her as they headed for the door.

Opening the door to the boiler room, she stood frozen.

Her heart pounded frantically, her palms damp at the sight before her.

"Let him stay, Allie." Dominic chimed in. "Perhaps he will learn something."

His next movements were so quick she could barely distinguish them. He gripped her hair so rough she screamed, slamming her against the door. A second later he tore the gun out of Carl's hands in one violent motion, dismantling it within a matter of seconds.

"What do you want?" She whimpered, fruitlessly trying to remove his hand from her hair.

He laughed. "What I want...is right here. In this room. You. So glad Victor had me come for you now."

"Was it a choice? Or did he back you into a corner? That's how he works, you know. He manipulates and positions himself to the point where you can't make any other decision but the one he wants. Is that the kind of man you want to work under?"

He laughed quietly and pulled the gun from out of her holster and tossed it across the room.

"I do not expect to live forever. My time in this body is finite and precious— and therefore must not be wasted."

Vasquez did not believe in reincarnation or in any of the standard promises of an afterlife that are sold by the world's great religions— although at times he senses that he is approaching a revelation of tremendous importance. He is willing to contemplate the possibility that the immortal soul exists, and that his own spirit may one day be exalted. But if he is to undergo an apotheosis, it will be brought about by his own bold actions, not by divine grace; if he, in fact, becomes a god, the transformation will occur because he has already chosen to live like a god— without fear, without remorse, without limits.

He was stone crazy. So cute in his olive shirt, with his beautiful blue eyes and his thick dark hair spiked— but pustulant and canker-riddled inside.

"There's no understanding you," she said, though she was talking more to herself than to him.

"Of course there is. I'm just in touch with my reptilian nature, Allie. It's in all of us. We all evolved from that slimy, legged fish that first crawled out of the sea. The reptile consciousness…it's still in all of us, but most of you struggle so hard to hide it from yourselves, to convince yourselves that you're something cleaner and better than what you really are. The irony is, if you'd just for once acknowledge your reptile nature, you'd find the freedom and the happiness that you're all so frantic to achieve and never do." He said then turned to Carl. "Get in touch with your reptile consciousness. Embrace the cold and the dark. That's what we are."

"Leave him out of this. He is nothing like you."

Dominic laughed and glanced at Carl. "Maybe not right now, but soon. I can see it in his eyes."

She fisted her hands, tensing against the anger that rushed over her. He couldn't be serious.

"Don't listen to him, Carl. He's deranged if he thinks for a minute-"

His nostrils flared. Without warning he lifted his arm and backhanded her with Carl's pistol against the wall. She fell back with a thud, catching herself before she dropped to the ground.

Her shaky hand went to the place where he'd made contact. The sharp pain of it paled in comparison to the shock that he'd done it, and without hesitation.

She pulled herself up slowly, too afraid to look at him. She needed to get out of here...soon. She needed to get Carl away from this man but before she could even think about her next move, he brought his face inches from hers.

Alexis swallowed hard and pressed back against the wall trying to still her rapid breathing.

"That's a warning."

She shivered at the unforgiving tone.

"You're coming back with me. You'll do this or I'll fucking kill this boy right where he shot his very own mother."

She recoiled at the venom in his voice. She was too stunned, too scared to speak. Her chances of getting out of this situation on her terms were quickly dwindling. She fought the tremble that coursed through her. She was trapped.

Cautiously she tilted her head up to Dominic, trying to read him. He stared back with a smug glitter in his eyes.

"You wouldn't," She challenged, her jaw resolute.

He lifted his hand and she flinched back. She opened her eyes when he brushed his knuckles over the stinging flesh of her cheek, a surprising act of tenderness after what he'd just done and said.

"I certainly would, Allie. Don't doubt it."

His voice was low, deliberately slow. He tucked the hair that had fallen between them, obscuring her face, behind her ear. His touch fell to her shoulder, trailing down to her elbow with heavy intent. "You're smart so it won't take long for you to remember how things work with us…with me. If you care for these people, you'll do as you're told. We don't need any more accidents. Do you understand?"

Fear sliced through her, his words chilling her blood. When he put it like that, nothing had ever been more clear.

She swallowed before answering, trying to keep her voice steady as her hand slowly inched its way to her knife. "I understand."

When Vasquez looked down again, the woman was withdrawing her knife from her scabbard. Before he could react, Alexis stabbed him in the abdomen with her Bull Dozier Combat Knife and twisted the blade so that the wound won't be able to close and shoved him down the stairs.

He welcomed the pain, shouting with delight, reveling in the incredible intensity of this adventure.

Alexis took Carl by the shoulder and pulled. "Go!"

Clenching his jaw tightly, Vasquez yanked the knife from his abdomen, casting it aside. "You'll pay for that, you bitch."

He came in fast behind them. Before Alexis could reach the door, Vasquez wrapped an arm around her waist and slammed it shut in front of her. Carl bolted in the direction of Cell Block C, and Vasquez considered going after him. He decided against it. There was no time.

Alexis continued to writhe in his arms as he carried her back. She pressed her foot against the metal door and pushed back with all her strength, causing Dominic to stumble back making them fall over the guardrail.

Vasquez's abdomen was badly punctured, and the smell of his blood was like January wind rushing across snowfields high on a mountain slope. A brassy ringing in both ears reminds him of the bitter metallic taste of the spider outside the penitentiary, and he savors it.

As he gets to his feet, all bones intact, choking down the interestingly sour insistence of vomit, he reaches to his holster for his revolver. Evidently it fell out when they went over the guardrail. There was no time to look around for it.

Ignoring the searing pain in her head from the impact, Alexis scrambled to her feet and grabbed her pistol from off of the floor.

He was fast, but she was marginally faster. He tried to drive her backward and slam her against the wall, but she slid out of the way, raising the pistol, with the muzzle three feet from his face, and she pulled the trigger, and the hammer made a dry, stick-breaking sound as it fell on an empty chamber.

She backed hard into the side of the wall.

Vasquez was still rushing at her.

She squeezed the trigger, and the pistol clicked again, which made no sense— shit— because she refilled the cartridge before she and Rick left the training sight. No cartridges should be missing.

Smiling, he continued to come straight at her as she squeezed the trigger a third time and the hammer fell yet again on an empty chamber. He tore the pistol out of her hand with such force that she thought her finger broke before it slipped through the trigger guard, and she squealed in pain.

Vasquez backed away from her, holding the weapon, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "What a kick that was."

Alexis huddled against the side of the wall, tramping on clutter.

"I knew it was wise of me to unload the clip while you were asleep," he said. "but what if I'd hadn't? I'd have one big hole in my face right now, wouldn't I, sweetheart?"

She recalled his face, the dream of his arrogant smile as he hovered over her powerless body. Bile rose in her throat. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if that could protect her from what her mind was showing her now.

"One big hole in my face," he repeated, as if he found that prospect amusing.

He slammed the heel of his hand against the side of her head, sending a spray of darkness across the backs of her eyes, like shards of exploding black glass, and then he clubbed his fist against the nape of her neck.

With no memory of having fallen, Alexis was lying on the floor, with a bug's-eye view across the boiler room, gazing through a cataclysmic tumble of dried blood and odds and ends.

Dominic's boots. Black boots. Moving around.

For a moment she became confused, thinking that she was back in the McKay house in Linden County, and when she focused on the dried blood, her thoughts cleared.

Alexis was surprised that she could move her arm, which was as heavy as a great tree limb, a petrified tree once wood but now stone. Nevertheless, she managed to point at Dominic and even curl her throbbing trigger finger, swallowing her pain and the bitter taste that came with it.

The gun didn't fire.

She squeezed the trigger again, and still there was no boom, and then she realized that her hand was empty. She wasn't holding the pistol.

Strange.

Her knife was near her hand, and she quietly closed her hand around it.

Now all she had to do was find the strength to get off the floor. Curiously, she couldn't even lift her head. She had never before felt so tired.

She had been hit hard on the back of the neck. She wondered about spinal injury.

She refused to weep. She had the knife.

Hand pressed over the bleeding wound, Vasquez came to her, stooped, and extracted the knife from her hand. She was amazed at how easily it slipped from her fingers, even though she clutched it ferociously, as if it hadn't been a knife at all but a sliver of melting ice.

"Bad girl," he said, and rapped the flat of the blade against the top of her skull.

"Bastard," she said, dismayed to hear a slur in her voice.

"Sticks and stones."

"Fucking bastard."

"Oh, very pretty," he said scornfully.

"Shithead."

"I should wash your mouth out with soap."

"Asshole."

"Your mother never taught you words like that."

"You don't know my mother," she said thickly.

He hit her again, a hard chop to the side of the neck this time.


	12. Chapter 12

Rick raced through the tombs as fast as his legs could carry him, weaving between snarling walkers in the darkened halls as his heart hammered in his chest, his team following closely behind. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. They were together an hour ago.

I shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have left her!

After things had managed to settle down, Rick had gone searching for Alexis. Despite her assurance that she would soon follow, she never did. He figured she went back to check on Judith, but Beth hadn't seen her since before the fire nor had the others, which only fueled his panic.

He clambered up the steps to the south tower. Nothing. Where in the hell could she have gone? He turned to leave but came to a sudden halt. A Zippo lied on the floor. He walked over and picked it up.

One down, Allie. How many more?

He flipped it over.

Meet me in the tombs. Alone.

The fire was a set up.

His knuckles went white, as if gripping the lighter on the brink of crushing it might stop her from doing this. His chest was painfully tight. The teeth gnashing frustration that only Alexis could elicit. But under all of it was love.

No it couldn't be. He wasn't in love. He wasn't.

He didn't want to be in love, but he was starting to realize that there really wasn't any other explanation for his actions. Perhaps it had started as pure lust, but somewhere along the way, his heart had gotten involved and the Sheriff had done something he swore he would never do again.

He was in love.

He turned around and retraced his steps, racing back down the concrete steps and out into the inner courtyard where he assembled a team of four consisting of Daryl, Michonne, Glenn and himself and gave a quick rundown on the situation, promising to inform the rest on the details later.

As they entered Cell Block C, Carl rushed out of the tombs, panting and disheveled. He explained he followed Alexis into the tombs where they had encountered Dominic. He'd sworn Alexis was behind him when they had fled from the boiler room but when he turned, she was no longer there. He went for help.

As worry plagued his thoughts, so did unwanted memories of this room. He hadn't stepped foot in there since Lori's passing.

He pushed the door open to the boiler room and cautiously stepped inside. The room was empty. He found evidence of a struggle including two sets of bloody footprints, one set noticeably smaller than the other.

Rick shoved a hand through his hair. "Ah, God."

He had her. Despite all his assurances to keep her safe, the sonofabitch took her right from under him. God knows what he was doing to her right now. He was afraid she was crying out in pain, calling for help, and Rick prayed he wasn't too late.

Daryl stepped in, saw the same and then lowered his bow.

"Fuck."

"He won't kill her, right?" Glenn said worriedly.

"No," Rick said. "Victor will want her back alive, but she won't be for long if we don't get to her before he does."

Across the room, Rick picked up the pistol from the floor, immediately identifying it as Alexis's. However, it was a lot lighter than he remembered. No. That couldn't be right; he specifically remembered instructing her on how to reload the magazine. No cartridges should be missing. He unloaded the magazine; it was empty.

He glanced around quickly. There were no bullet holes in the walls, no shell casings on the ground, and no smell of gunpowder. He somehow managed to empty her clip undetected. When? How? He shook his head. It didn't matter; right now he needed to focus on finding Alexis and soon.

"We need to find her." Rick said, placing the pistol is the back of his pants. "Daryl, can you track them?"

Daryl nodded and pointed to the blood trail leading out of the room.

"They hadn't left long ago. If we hurry, we might be able to catch them."

They left the room, searching for Alexis with renewed urgency

~THE WALKING DEAD~

"Remember, Victor wants her alive so don't kill her."

Dominic pushed the PTT button on the two-way radio."Tell Victor he can kiss my ass. The fucking bitch stabbed me, she deserves pain."

"And Victor will reward you for your troubles," He assured. "But as agreed she is to stay alive."

"Then you tell Victor I want to be the one to end her life. I've been looking at her beautiful face for over a year, wanting to smash it."

"Take it up with Victor." He said. "I should arrive at our agreed location in less than forty-five minutes."

"You have thirty. Out." Vasquez switched off the two-way radio and shoved it in his back pocket.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Her eyes fluttered open, and then fell shut. Every time she reached for consciousness, something knocked her back down. She'd never been this tired in her life. Even as her conscious mind began to grasp details from what happened, her body demanded sleep.

As she drifted in and out of sleep, voices brought her back into consciousness. Suddenly, she remembered Dominic and the incident inside the boiler room.

She was gagged. Her hands were behind her back, and when she tried to lift one, she lifted both, for her wrists were cuffed with what seemed to be fashioned out of rope. She tried to pull her feet apart—and discovered that her ankles were also bound.

She was lying on her stomach. Her head was turned to her right, and she was looking at the prison at least a mile in the distance. She tried not to let her disappointment show at being so far away. Her heart sank. Dominic had captured her, knocked her unconscious, and then smuggled her out of prison. Whatever safety she might have known in the prison, it was gone. She could only hope that somehow, some way, Rick would find her.

Although she had never fired after that day at the training sight, she should have checked it. She should have known. Somehow. Some way. Though she could not possibly have known what Dominic had done with the bullets, she should have known.

William had always told her that she was too hard on herself, that she would never heal if she kept inflicting new bruises on the old in endless self-flagellation. But William was dead.

As she tried to lift her head, pain shot up the back of her neck and throbbed in the right side of her face. She almost blacked out, and decided not to be in a rush about getting up.

Then she heard footsteps approaching. And she was nothing short of terrified now. Her eyes were wide, her heartbeat skipping out of control.

Alexis tensed as Dominic knelt before her and grabbed her chin with his fingers, tilting her head so she would look him in the eye. She made no attempt to hide her revulsion at his touch.

"While we wait for Ivan, whaddaya say we have a little fun before he arrives, hmm?" He cocked his head slightly to the side. "We could pick up where we left off from the other night? That two-bit sheriff is a real cock blocker, you know?"

She shook her head fiercely, her pleas muffled from the gag.

"No doesn't hold much weight here, Allie." He smirked. "Oh, the things we're gonna do."

She struggled against the restraints, the rope biting into her skin. Bound and helpless, she was completely at his mercy.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

"So," said Dominic, he leaned closer to whisper into her ear as Alexis coughed up murky water. "You remember how this works, don't you?"

She spoke, but her lips were trembling, her lungs too busy gasping in air to make much noise.

Dominic leaned closer. "What was that?"

"Bastard."

"I thought so." He drove her head under again, and this time she wasn't able to prepare. The cold was almost welcome, a numbing sensation overwhelming her raw nerves throughout her body. All but her lungs. They felt aflame, and she had to resist the desire to open her mouth and let the water pour in, lest it be the last breath she ever took.

She endured, and when he pulled her out, she managed another desperate gasp before he dunked her back in. Still, that one was the worst of all. Her headed pounded from the blood rushing into it and her nostrils ached from the water pouring into them and then pooling in the back of her throat.

All thoughts of resisting fled from her mind. He'd continue to dunk her, spend all night if he wanted. Here she was, her lungs about to burst, and it was just the third time. How would she survive another ten minutes? Twenty? An hour?

In and out of the water, every breath a sweet gift that was never enough. At last she could hardly think, could hardly feel, and it was then he pulled her onto the bank and left her lying there, bound, soaked and shivering.

Her mind was moving too slow, her attention scattering until he was beside her, catching her jaw painfully so she faced him. "I can't wait till we're home. It's just not as fun if I don't get to use my toys. If we're lucky, Victor won't kill you. I'm really hoping he'll pass that honor onto me. I got some new toys just for you; I'm eager to see how your body will respond to them before I kill you."

Alexis jerked out of his grasp, and with red eyes watched a pair of walkers stagger toward them in the not-so-far distance. "I'm not going back," she said, her voice cracking. "And you won't make me."

"Is that so?" asked Dominic, wincing from the puncture wound in his abdomen as he shuffled over to check the bonds on her ankles before standing up. "What makes you so certain?"

"Because you'll be dead."

From her place of the ground, he seemed enormous, his juggernaut form towering over her. With nothing to lose, Alexis lifted her bound feet and placed them on his abdomen and kicked him backward, causing him to lose his footing.

Down he fell, landing hard on his back. The two walkers towered over him. Once those clutching rotting fingers caught his clothes, his chances of continuing life would hit absolute zero.

She wormed her way over to the large tree. She squirmed up to her knees, grunting with effort and pain and quickly begins to saw through her bounds using the rough bark from the tree.

She looked up. Dominic was struggling to fend off the pair of walkers.

As she continued to work on her bonds, she caught a blur of movement to her left. She turned and saw a walker coming down the tree-covered ridge, leaping toward her with such velocity that, when it hit her, it would carry her off the creek bank and into the water.

"Shit!"

She twisted aside, narrowly avoiding impact, causing the walker to land hard onto the bank. However, it slipped on the dewy surface, skidded, and to Alexis's astonishment, it tumbled past her, slid off the bank, and left her untouched.

She got onto her knees, and tried again. The exercise was so much harder than it seemed like it should have been. But she was rewarded with the snap of the rope and then quickly undid the bounds on her ankles.

Although loathe to take her eyes off the walker, she looked at Vasquez again. He was on his hands and knees, two hundred feet away. He'd single-handedly disposed of those two walkers using nothing but his bare hands.

Oh, God!

Suddenly, two more walkers came flying out of the brush. Before he could do little more than raise a protective arm, dirty teeth ripped into his left forearm, with the weight of two struggling bodies pushing him to the ground. The other grasped around his head and shoulders. As Dominic grasped at him to pull him off, the walker opened his mouth wide, and chomped down his neck. He screamed. Blood. God, there was so much blood.

The Walker was no longer slipping. It stood rigid and vigilant. As Alexis watched, its teeth bared, eager to rip into her flesh.

Alexis snatched a thick twig from the ground and hooked her fingers around it, and her vision clouded with a crimson tint as the pain in her swollen finger flared.

"Come on, you bastard," she said to the looming walker, dismayed to hear how shaky her voice was. "Come on."

Snarling, the walker leaped straight toward Alexis without any hesitation.

She didn't take a defensive position. That would be death. She had one chance. One slim chance. Aggressive action. Go for it. She immediately rushed the walker, meeting its attack head-on, swung her arm down and clove it's skull down through the eye socket.

Breathing raggedly, dripping cold sweat, Alexis dropped the branch. At last she was unable to stand one moment longer. She sat on the ground, shaking uncontrollably, pain-racked. Then she was simultaneously laughing and sobbing, not with relief but with a weird sense of triumph.

Getting free of her bounds, free from her psychopath captor, disposing of a walker seemed, together, to be an act of endurance and of courage equivalent to setting foot on the moon with the first astronauts to land there, slogging through blinding blizzards to the Pole with Admiral Peary, or storming the beaches of Normandy against the might of the German army.

She laughed at herself, laughed until tears spilled down her face; nevertheless, she still felt that degree of triumph. She knew how small—even pathetic—her triumph was, but she felt that it was big.

In spite of her fantasies of pulling the trigger on Victor, Alexis didn't want to have to confront him again, even if she found a pistol and loaded it herself and had an opportunity to test fire it before he arrived. She was a survivor, and she was a fighter, but Victor was more than either: as unreachable as stars, something come down from a high darkness. She was no match for him, and she didn't want a chance to prove it again. She needed to leave before he arrived.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Half drunk on the deliciously complex smell of his own blood and recklessly eager to get his hands on the woman, Vasquez reached over with one hand to feel for the expected stump and the warm gush of blood, he discovers that he is intact. However, his left arm was missing whole bite-size chunks of flesh, human bite-sized chunks along with the bite mark on his nape. He was as good as dead, but not before he had a chance to wrap his hands around that pretty little neck first.

The woman was two hundred feet from him, heading back to the prison. She's a damn singularity, all right, in her own way just like him. He admires her for it.

He grabs the bloody tree branch beside him and sprints toward her. The woman hears the crunch of dead leaves, his angry scream, but she doesn't have a chance to fully turn around and confront him. Vasquez swung the branch like a club, putting everything he had into it, smashing the flat of the stock across her shoulder blades.

The woman is knocked off her feet, the breath hammered from her, unable to cry out. She pitches forward and sprawls face down on the ground, perhaps unconscious but certainly stunned immobile.

He flipped her onto her back, straddling her hips and wrapped his hands around her throat.

"You cunt," Vasquez snarled, squeezing her tighter. She began to struggle anew, thrashing and kicking beneath him but nothing she did could throw him off. "It's over now. It's over."

She tried to scream, but no sound escaped. Her hands were at his hands, clawing, trying to pry them loose.

Dominic's face, a twisted mass of raging fury and evil, froze Alexis's blood.

"Please," She grunted between clenched teeth.

Alexis tried to fight him but her strength was nothing compared to Dominic's. Eventually her limbs grew heavy, the forest faded and even Dominic's constant yelling sounded like it came from a great distance.

Hope. The one thing she clung to for so long slowly trickled out of her. She tried to keep her eyes open as Dominic's hand tightened upon her throat, but it proved too much. Her eyes drifted close. The fear gave way to lightness as she gasped her last breath.

Like a pilgrim, genuflecting before a shrine, Dominic removed his hands from her throat as a final gasp rattles from the dying woman. A sound like the brittle flutter of insect wings. He leaned in close to inhale her exhalation, breathes deeply. Now small measures of the woman's grace and beauty are a part of him.

And then Dominic suddenly jerked forward. The arrow struck him in the back, and he let out a gasp. In a flash, Rick was on him, arms tightly wrapped around his throat as he pulled him off of Alexis. the two-way radio dropping onto the ground. "Not this time."

Michonne sheathed her weapon and quickly rushed to the woman's side and put a hand on her neck. No pulse. She looked up at Rick, her eyes wide. "She's not breathing."

Rick shoved Dominic aside and reacted immediately and said to Daryl as he rushed over to Alexis's unmoving form. "Don't let him out of your sight."

"There's no telling how long she's been like this." Glenn said quickly. "She could turn."

"Lori was able to revive Hershel," Rick said. "She still has chance."

He didn't hesitate as he leant over Alexis's form. He put his ear close to her mouth listening for breath. Nothing. He sat up and brought his clasp hands down hard on her chest. He did it three times, then another three.

He pinched her nose and opened her mouth, breathing his desperate hope into her. There was no response. He felt a mounting desperation and told himself fiercely to calm down. He raised his hands again and brought them down on Alexis's chest. Her body rocked under the impact.

"Come on, Alexis. Breathe." Rick urged with gritted teeth.

"You can't save her," Dominic felt a reflex to cough, but the pain was too incredible, and he forced it down. "Even if you brought her back, then what? How long before she's torn to pieces by a herd of walkers? That is if she hasn't been raped or murdered first by Victor."

"That's not for you to decide." Rick hissed. He went back to her mouth and blew, emptying his lungs. Again and again he pounded the sides of his fists into her chest, pulled her chin down and blew another breath into her unmoving body. "Come on, Alexis. Come on!"

"It's what she'd want." Dominic said.

"Shut up." Daryl growled.

"Come on, Alexis, dammit, you can't die on me." Rick brought his hands down on her chest one last time and went back to her face to blow the last of his breath, then he heard a gasp of breath, and he moved his head back, as Alexis came back to the land of the living coughing and gasping. Rick moved back from her slightly, sighing in relief as she filled her lungs with needed oxygen.

He slid his palm over her cheek and into her hair. "It's okay. You're okay now."

A moment later her eyes came into focus, and she looked his way. Despite her obvious pain, a hint of a smile crossed her lips. "Knew…you would..." she said her voice hoarse before drifting back off to sleep.

"Seven," Dominic whispered. "Seven times she's been brought back from the dead. Lucky number seven."

Rick snapped to face Dominic again, his jaw twitching, eyes wild with fury. "How did Victor know about her being here?"

His voice was low, the threatening tone unmistakable.

"Fuck you, man." Dominic said. "I ain't tellin' you shit."

Rick frowned and wrapped his fingers around the arrow's shaft and yanked the arrow out of him and rammed it in again. Dominic cried out from the pain.

Rick cocked his head slightly. "You sure about that?"

"Goddamn arrow," Dominic muttered before coughing up blood.

"Now I'll ask you again," Rick said, "How did Victor know she was here?"

A chuckle escaped Dominic's lips. "One of the men overheard you mention a prison the day you found that whore on the side of the road." He said. "I'm from around these parts so I know this area rather well and this is the closest penitentiary close to where she was being held."

"Victor must have offered you something substantial to make all your trouble worthwhile," Rick spat.

"You can say that," Dominic admitted with a smile, his teeth stained red with blood. "However, currency is useless now so Victor rewards us with another form of remuneration. Pussy."

Rick tensed ever so slightly, pausing for just the briefest of moments as his enemy's words cut him deep. That alone was enough reason to make sure his death was slow and painful.

Though his wince was slight, Dominic saw it, his unmemorable features twisting into a cruel smirk. "That's right. Victor rewards us with all the pussy we want and if we're especially good, we get to play with his toy over there. Her pussy was still good and tight, unlike some of the other girls there. I fucked her brains out. Made her scream as I pounded into her at breakneck speed."

The jeering words were too much for Rick. Red seeped over his vision. He drew back a fist and delivered a punch powerful enough to snap Dominic's head back as it connected with his jaw.

Dominic laughed and turned his head, spitting blood onto the ground.

"You think what I did was bad; wait till Victor gets a hold of her. The things we subjected her to then won't even compare to what he has in store for her when she returns."

"I won't let that happen." Rick said, determined eyes confirming he was indeed serious.

He laughed, a wicked sound that sliced through Rick. "This happened!" He said. "But you go on ahead and keep telling yourself that Sheriff. But in all reality, she'll end up just like your wife. Dead."

Rick frowned and drew back his fist once again, bringing it down repeatedly on his face. Several seconds passed by and Rick stepped back from Dominic, panting, his fist bruised and bloody. He turned his head to the right. At least a half a dozen walkers were trying to make their way toward them.

He seethed with anger and dragged Dominic up off his butt. "Get up."

Dominic chuckled. "You don't have the stomach for it. Now let me go!"

"You know nothing about me." Rick shoved him toward the herd of walkers.

On one level, Vasquez knew the fading scream was his own, but his suffering was so intense that bizarre thoughts flared through his mind in a blaze of delirium. At the end, Vasquez was very afraid in the strangeness of the flesh ripping off his bones, and then he was not a man any more but only an enduring darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I’m just blown away on how many reviews I got from the previous chapter along with the favorites/follows. Thanks to Stacey73, Angelicedg, tatyasdias, LPD2, Jennie68, Katarzyna88gb, msgemgem, and Emmakellogg for your amazing reviews along with those who favorite/followed. You guys are simply amazing! *Hugs*

I know we’re only twelve chapters in, and I’m aware how slow it’s kinda progressing. But I had to make sure not to rush her development. What Alexis went through, what she experienced cannot be turned off like a flip of a switch. Though I’m excited because in these next upcoming chapters we’re going to see her character develop a lot more. She will come across some obstacles and she will have to make a decision. Okay, enough spoiling. Here is the next installment of Restoration. 

Enjoy! Rated M for mature.

Restoration: Chapter 13

“So, Vasquez is dead.” He said to the many guards about him.

Ivan stepped up beside Victor and whispered something in his ear. 

Victor turned around to look at one of his men in the corner of the room, the man looked like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You were on lookout today, correct?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then where were you when Vasquez had the woman in his custody?” Seriousness darkened his gaze and he took a step closer, pointing at him.

“I didn’t see them, sir. I’m sorry.”

He shot him a chilling look, his lip curled into a snarl.

“You didn’t see them?” He raised his voice, directing his venom at him.

“I must’ve been taking a piss when he made it out with her.” 

A very tense moment passed. Victor looked around. He had an idea. He pulled a length of cable from one of the winches and threw the line over one of the ceiling buttresses. He grabbed the cable as it came down and gestured Ivan to retrieve the guard.   
“I’m so sorry. No, don’t. We can work this out. Please, don’t do this.”

Ivan grabbed Wes and dragged him kicking, fighting, over to where Victor stood, brandishing the cable.

“Aw, shut up.” Ivan said.

“Please, Victor, don’t do this.” The man pleaded.

Victor hooked the end into a noose with the tow hook, and placed it over Wes's head, pulling it taut around his neck. The man dug at the cable with his fingers.

“Let this be a lesson to every single one of you here in this room. When you’re assigned a job by me I expect results.” Victor threatened. “String him up.”

“No, no, no, please. Please don’t. Please!”

Ivan hit the power switch and Wes was yanked up into the air, hanging twenty feet above the floor.

The rest of the men, all except for Victor and Ivan tore their gaze from Wes who’s valiantly struggling for his life.

“Don’t look away! Look at him!” Victor barked. 

They raised their gaze to their struggling friend. After a moment, Wes stopped struggling and hung lifelessly in the air. The guards watched in horror as their comrade turned. 

Ivan turned to Victor, his face cold as stone. "Send me. I’ll take a few men and-”

“No need,” Victor cut him off short. “I’ve been saving something out in the backyard for a rainy day. It smells like a monsoon.”

Without another word Victor left the room, a scowl embedded in his face.

He went downstairs, into the half-basement under the rear of the house. He put the key in the door to unlock it, swung it open and entered the dark room, then said, “We need to talk.”

~THE WALKING DEAD~

"Her ribs are bruised, and her right index finger is sprained,” Hershel said. The right side of her face along the jaw seemed to be smeared with a purple ink, but when he touched it, he discovered that this was the trailing edge of a bruise that mottled that entire side of her neck. “She took a hard blow to the side of her neck, more than likely she’ll have some neck strain for a few days.”

“Why is she still unconscious?” Rick asked.

“She got worked over good, Rick. She’ll wake when she’s ready. Just give her some time. We should leave, let her rest.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

"Rick, you should sleep." He said. “I’ll sit with her if that will make you feel better.”

Rick sat at the edge of the bed and sighed as he ran his hands down his face. “What in the hell was she thinking? She was crazy, stupid-Why didn’t she tell me?” His voice is full of anguish.

“Rick, calm down. Alexis’s a remarkable young woman. She was incredibly brave.”

“Brave and headstrong and stubborn and stupid.”

“Don’t be so hard on her; the two of you are more alike than you realize…I’d better get back. It’s after one in the morning, Rick. You really should try to sleep.”

Rick nodded silently.

Daryl entered the room as Hershel left and leaned against the wall. "Rounded up those up those hogs and found this not far from Dom's body." He tossed Rick a two-way radio. "Thought we could use it in case this Victor guy decides to make another move."

Rick stared at the two-way radio. "Thanks."

"How's she holdin' up?" Daryl asked.

“Uh, fine. She—” He paused. “She still hasn't woken up. Hershel said she has a few bruised ribs and needs to rest."

"She’s one tough broad.”

"I let him in through those gates, Daryl. The way he looked at her the morning I took her out for training. Her demeanor when he was too close. I should’ve known. I should've killed him when I had the chance."

"It ain’t on you, man. The sumbitch knew she was here. He would've gotten to her one way or another. The asshole got what he deserved."

"Yeah, but there’s no telling what Victor’s next move will be. He’s not gonna quit until he gets what he wants and I don't intend on letting that happen. So we need to be prepared.”

"Best have the balls to show his face next time instead of sending his boys to do his dirty work.”

"Victor's not one to get his hands dirty unless he really has to. He has others do his dirty work." Rick said quietly. "I can’t help but think I prolonged her suffering by bringing her back. What if Dominic was right, what if she didn’t want to be brought back?” 

"You made the right choice."

"How can you know that?"

Daryl's eyes became serious and still in the brief silence. "Because she was heading back toward the prison when Dom took her down. From what I could see she put up a hell of a fight. If she wanted to die she would've opted out long ago."

“When did you get all insightful?" Rick half smiled.

"I have no idea," Daryl admitted.

"I don't like it." He joked.

"Me, either. Makes me feel like a damn girl.”

Rick chuckled and Daryl put a hand on his shoulder before leaving the room.

He caught her hand and rubbed the back of it gently. "Please wake up.” 

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Every inch of her body ached like crazy. She was cold. Everything was blurry, but the room was dimly lit. Slowly and with great effort, she brought more things into focus. The rough texture of the white blanket covering her. A soft rustling sound beside her.

Then Rick's face filled the widening frame of her vision. She wanted to reach for him but a needling pain shot through her hand as she went to move it. She winced.

“Rick.” Her voice cracked when she spoke. Her throat was dry, but suddenly grew moist with the tears and emotion. Seeing Rick overwhelmed her. They’d been apart for too long, yet she couldn’t explain why. “What happened?”

“You were taken."

She closed her eyes and reached for the memories. Everything was so blurry, but slowly, like the room, the last memories of her conscious mind came into focus.

The Fire. The lighter inscribed with Dominic’s message. The tombs. Carl. God, Carl was with her. He could be hurt...or worse.

“Carl...is Carl okay?”

He nodded his head. “He’s fine.”

Relief spiraled through her body. Thank God, thank God, thank God he’s okay.

She tried to shift upwards in bed, but a sharp jolt of pain stopped her from going any farther. “Ouch.”

Reaching up to stop her, he fisted his hand and lowered it before he could make contact. The muscles in his arms flexed as if he was restraining himself from touching her more. Then she noticed his hand, a thick white bandage wrapped around it. 

“You’re hurt.” 

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “I’m fine.” 

She covered her mouth. A new wave of nausea hit her as she tried to string the words together to ask him. She didn’t want to know, but she had to. She held Rick’s gaze, searching, wishing she didn’t need to ask. If she didn’t want to hear it, he didn’t want to tell her. 

The tears poured from her eyes as her body shook. She could only piece together a few details from the incident, but somehow she knew something terrible had happened. And heaven help her, it had happened at Dominic’s hand. 

“I need to know what he did,” She whispered. 

He closed his eyes a moment as if to collect his anger. “We found Dominic...strangling you. By the time I got him off, you weren’t breathing. I managed to revive you in time before you could turn.” 

She let out a shaky sigh and draped her arm over her eyes.

“Everyone saw. I can’t imagine what they must think.” 

He reached for her hand, pulling it away from her face. She licked her dry lips and took a steadying breath. 

“They don’t think anything. They know what he did. I haven’t had anyone come in here so you could rest. I knew you’d need some time. No one thinks any less of you. I can guarantee they think a hell of a lot less of him.” 

Hatred played out on the hard lines of his features. She reached up and traced the tight muscle at his jaw. He released it, turning into her touch. He pressed a soft kiss against her fingertips. The sweet gesture began to unravel the horror she’d woken with. Rick was here. They were together, both safe. She reminded herself of these truths over and over, even when her mind grappled with the broken memories of what Dominic had done. 

"What you did,” He shoved a hand through his hair, a gesture that always betrayed his growing frustration, usually with her. “Was incredibly brave and incredibly stupid. You could have been killed.” His eyes blaze a bleak, chilling blue, and she knew he was restraining his anger.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” She whispered.

“You could have told me!” he said vehemently, fisting his hands in his lap. “You don’t seem to have any regard for your personal safety.”

“Stop...just stop. Rick...I’m exhausted, I’m sore, and I’m ready to seriously lose it. I don’t need you berating me, making this my fault.” Her voice wavered as she brushed away a tear that had broken free. “Maybe it is, but I can’t bear you telling me that right now. I can’t take it.”  
He hesitated a moment, that heavy silence filling the space between them again. Then without another word, he left.

Out of her world again. She watched his retreat, relieved of the pressure of his resentment, yet infinitely more miserable than she’d been before.  
~THE WALKING DEAD~

Human cruelty and treachery surpassed all understanding. There were no answers. Only excuses.

Alexis felt lost. She was in a stranger place than the walker infested world and in a more forbidding darkness.

In all her years, she had never before felt lost, not truly lost. Frightened, yes. Sometimes confused and bleak. But always she had held a map in her mind, with a route marked if only vaguely, and she had believed that in her heart was a compass that couldn’t fail her. She had been in the wrong place many times, but she’d always been sure that there was a way out—just as in any fun-house mirror maze there is always a safe path through the infinite images of oneself, through more fearful reflections, and through all of the enigmatic silver shadows.

No map this time.

No compass.

Life itself was the ultimate fun-house mirror maze, and she was lost in its nautilus chambers.

Failure, shame, and the helplessness of being bound had reduced her to a despair that she had preferred not to consider. Now she was sickened less by Dominic than by herself, wondering if she was a quitter and a loser.

A soft knock distracted her, and Michonne peeked around the door.

“May I come in?” She asked.

“Of course.”

She strode into the room and over to her.

“I thought you could use a clean shirt.” She held up a red long sleeve plaid button shirt.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than I deserve.” Alexis struggled to sit up.  
“You shouldn’t get out of bed just yet.” She said, alarmed. “Hershel said you need to heal.”  
She shook her head and winced from the pain. “I’m fine, Michonne, really. It’s nothing I haven’t already survived.” 

“Alexis.”

“Please. I want to get up.” She struggled to sit up once more. "Laying here gives me too much time to overthink everything.” 

She gave her a tentative look and helped her up.

“Easy,” Michonne said steadying her with her hand at her elbow.

“I got it.” Alexis assured taking the clean shirt from her.

She pulled off her T-shirt. She winced at the small pain from her abdomen and back by lifting her arms. As she was buttoning up the last few buttons of her plaid shirt she froze.

On the counter, directly on the wall mount desk, lay her pistol and knife. She stared at it in disbelief, blinking back tears.  
While she had been concentrating on her own survival, Alexis had blocked all thoughts of Carl from her mind. And when she had found the pistol, she had at once convinced herself that all she wanted was to kill this son of a bitch, blow his brains out. In retrospect, she found her arrogance not merely astonishing but perverse, delusional.

Now, with her pistol in hand, a strange and dismaying weakness was creeping into her fingers and into her wrists. Her arms were shaking so badly that already she had to grip the weapon with both hands to prevent herself from dropping it.

Shame, which had seemed on the verge of consuming her, instead had burned itself out for the time being. A strange combination of smoldering anger and bitter despondency had replaced it.

“Coward,” She called herself.

Alexis put the gun aside and turned to Michonne who stood motionless, her stare burning into her. The silence was painful, her own thoughts reeling and loud amidst it.

She could almost hear her’s too. More questions of why. Why had she been so stupid? So stubborn? When she looked up into her wounded eyes, they confirmed it. The effort to restrain her anger, the culmination of all the hurt, was evident in her posture.

“Is there anything you need to get off your chest? Now’s the time,” She said, only half-joking. She twisted her lips into a half smile.

“What were you thinking?” Michonne finally said

“I took a risk confronting him. I know that. I just...wanted him to stop.”

“I understand that but-”

“You can’t understand. You could never understand.” The words came out angry-sounding, mean-sounding, and her face flinched like she’d hit her. The things he did to me...to Jenna...to the others. “I wanted so badly to wipe that arrogant look off of his fucking face. And then to use Carl against me, the things he said to that child...just fueled my hatred for him even more. And when I had the gun in my hand, I didn’t hesitate for a second to pull the trigger.”

Alexis surprised herself by laughing. Musical, unexpectedly girlish laughter burst from her and on the verge of tears, now laughing again. But that was okay. Storms always passed sooner or later, and they were cleansing.

“The fucking gun didn’t go off when it was supposed to. He went into my room while I was passed out drunk off my ass and took the bullets out from my gun. It was stupid. I was so stupid.”

She sagged against the wall. “I tried to fight him off. I was so terrified, I felt so helpless.” She whispered. This time, she couldn’t swallow away the tears that fell free down her face. “I thought I could be stronger in this world. But that was only an illusion. I’m so goddamn angry at myself right now. Angry because I had to rely on you all to come and bail me out of that situation. You all could’ve gotten hurt.”

“But we didn’t.” She said. “You’re strong, but you don’t always have to be. We’d be a lot happier if you let us shoulder more of the burden for you. We’re always here for you. We’re all but family now.”

Her heart pulsed with gratitude for her friendship, and before she could say anything, she crossed over and pulled her into a hug. Whatever trouble came their way, they’d face it together. No more running and no more trying to be strong on her own. Fighting her own independent nature wasn’t easy, but sharing her life, the good and the bad, was more important now than ever.  
~THE WALKING DEAD~

Rick was keeping her at arm’s length. A week had gone by since the incident. He’d worked late again last night, arriving after she’d fallen asleep and rising before she had. He always seemed just beyond her grasp. She searched for anger, but her heart just ached with sadness and regret. 

They had to talk about what went down at some point, but it wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. 

Rick strapped on his belt while she dressed Judith for the morning. They didn’t speak. As if compelled by some magnetic force, her gaze kept drifting his way. If he sensed it, he didn’t show it, his focus seemingly undeterred. If he had wanted to talk, what would she have said anyway?

Another two days had passed, everything had been matter-of-fact between them. But she could sense his hesitation, the strain that came through with the short delivery of every word, the careful avoidance of her stares as she silently begged him for more. A look, a touch, anything to let her know they were okay.   
Too wiped out to push him, she simply went through the motions. She hated not knowing what he was thinking, and a part of her was afraid of what he’d say if she dared ask. She needed to believe that they’d get through this, that there was a light at the end of this tunnel.

After numerous attempts, Hershel finally convinced Alexis out of the prison to come to work with him that evening. She was trying to grasp onto the positive, but memories of what she’d been through would inevitably drag her back down. She hated the way she felt, her fear making her weak, and worse, no longer in control.

Her Glock lay on the counter by the sink; hesitantly she picked it up and holstered it.

She was about to sheath her knife when someone came up beside her.

“Hey,”

She jumped slightly only to find Carl there offering her a tentative smile.

"Well this is certainly unexpected," Alexis said. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were avoiding me just like your dad."

“I’m not avoiding you,”

“Well, if you’re here to berate me it’s nothing I haven’t heard already.”

Carl shook his head. 

Her eyebrows rose slightly and leaned against the small wall mount desk. “Alright, if you’re not avoiding me, not here to scold, then to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Do you think what Dominic said was true?”

He threaded his fingers into her hair, gripping it by the roots to pull her an inch closer. She whimpered at the pain. “There’s no understanding you,"

"Of course there is. I'm just in touch with my reptilian nature, Allie. It's in all of us. We all evolved from that slimy, legged fish that first crawled out of the sea. The reptile consciousness…it's still in all of us, but most of you struggle so hard to hide it from yourselves, to convince yourselves that you're something cleaner and better than what you really are. The irony is, if you'd just for once acknowledge your reptile nature, you'd find the freedom and the happiness that you're all so frantic to achieve and never do." He said then turned to Carl. "Get in touch with your reptile consciousness. Embrace the cold and the dark. That's what we are."

"Leave him out of this. He is nothing like you."

Dominic laughed and glanced at Carl. "Maybe not right now, but soon. I can see it in his eyes."

Alexis sighed and sheathed her knife before pushing off the desk. “You can't listen to people like that, Carl. You have to learn to block things out.”

Disappointment shadowed his gaze. Oh, he didn’t like that answer.

Alexis took a deep breath and slipped the hat off Carl’s head, and they made eye contact, real contact.

"You’re only responsible for yourself, Carl. And that’s the only person you can control. Other people will either get it or they won’t but you can’t define yourself by their opinions."

She placed the hat back on his head and gave him a warm smile. "Just be yourself; everyone else is already taken."

She turned and headed toward the door.

“Alexis,” Carl called, causing her to pause.

“Hm?”

“Mark Grayson,” Carl muttered.

“What?”

“You’d asked who my favorite comic book character was, it’s Mark Grayson from Invincible.”

She brightened with a smile. 

“Good to know.”

She made her way toward the door, feeling happy and a little relieved. She turned to head down the stairs. She was halfway down the stairs when Rick walked out of his room. He didn’t pause, didn’t even slow down as he exited the building. The knowledge was disheartening.

Hershel stepped up beside her. “Is everything okay between you two?”

Alexis swallowed over the knot in her throat. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Did he upset you?” She shook her head, unable to hide the hurt.

“No, more like I hurt him. I was wrong. And things have been tense. It’s been difficult to talk lately.”

She stared down, scuffing her toe against the cement floor. “Sometimes he’s just completely overwhelming. Maddening, really.”

He laughed softly. “I could have told you that. He’s a difficult man. He’s about as stubborn as they come." He said. “Rick will come around. This will be the best thing for him. Just…give him some time.”  
Alexis clenched her jaw, ignoring Hershel’s confused calls for her to come back and marched through the outdoor confines of the prison with enough speed and focus that heads turned, the heels of her boots scuffing on the gravel road as she went. She stormed up the stairs through the second door, and slammed it behind her as soon as she found him at his post.

“What are you doing here?” He asked quietly, turning to face her.

“How long are you going to camp out here and pout?” She walked up to him, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

His jaw shifted, and he lifted a bottle of water to his lips. His throat worked on a swallow.

“I’m not pouting.” He set the plastic bottle down.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you don’t need to be pushing yourself this hard regardless of whether you are pissed off at me or not. You’re going to burn out. Do you realize that?”

He sighed, seeming annoyed. “Why do you care, Alexis? Honestly. I’m not putting it off on you guys.”

“We wouldn’t mind it if you did. I don’t think it’s good for you or the prison. If you break down, who do we have? What if this ‘Governor’ decides to show or God forbid Victor happens to waltz on up here because of Dominic? The team’s not big enough to sustain without you. If you keep going like this, you’re going to be worthless in another week or two. Then what? What if something goes down and we really need you?”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” He muttered, wondering what he could say for her to ease up.

Christ he was stubborn.

Alexis took a careful step toward him, her voice softer.

“Listen, I know we’ll be angry sometimes, and we’ll hurt each other. That’s inevitable. I know we’ll take it out on each other in different ways. But I feel like you’re shutting me out to punish me even more. When is it going to end? How many different ways do I have to say that I’m sorry, that I made a stupid mistake I wish I could take back?”

He turned away slightly, raking his fingers through his hair. The dark brown strands stuck every which way.

“It should have never happened.”

“I know that. I wish it hadn’t.” 

He faced her again. “No, I don’t think you fully understand. The things that happened when we were apart... all of that happened because you didn’t trust me to handle Dominic threatening you.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“It is true, Alexis."

“He lit a man on fire. He was going to kill someone else, maybe even you if I didn't come alone. Do you understand that?" 

“Do you really think I would have let Dominic hurt me or you? Do you think for a second I wouldn’t have moved hell and earth to make sure you were safe from that maniac? The reality of it is that you put the others and us both in more danger because you wouldn’t come to me for help. How am I supposed to help you when you won’t let me protect you?"

Her lips trembled as she absorbed the fierceness of his words. “I made a mistake. I was scared, and all that mattered at the time was knowing you, your children and everyone else were safe.”

“How many more times are you going to put us through this, because you’re too goddamn stubborn to trust me?”

“You're punishing me for choices I already made, things I can't undo. Things are different now.” 

He shook his head. “Are they? Can you tell me that you wouldn't make the exact same choices? Because I can tell you right now, if you'd known, intrinsically and without a doubt to come to me when Dominic threatened you, all of that would have played out differently. I wanted to kill that piece of shit over and over for having his hands on you. I almost lost you. Do you understand what it does to me, Alexis?”

She blinked away tears at this onslaught. “Rick...”  
“You’re strong and willful. I respect that, and God help me, I love you for it but do not ever...ever do anything like this again.”

“I won’t,” She said weakly.

“I don’t believe you.” His eyes were hard and emotionless.

The sense that they were falling into place filled her. He’d been shaken, seeing what Dominic had done to her. Despite everything, he seemed almost at ease now. In control. Calm and commanding in his world.

“I’m sorry. I was stupid to confront him alone. I just—”

“You just do whatever you goddamn want anyway. Isn’t that right?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought his words along with the string of regrets rattling through her brain.

Then he kissed her. Her fractured thoughts vanished the instant their lips touched. Rough and pent up, the kiss was all consuming. She lost herself in it. His tongue breached her lips, tangling with hers. Never had she wanted Rick to be the man touching her more than now. They struggled for air, breaking the kiss only long enough to catch a breath before coming back to each other.

His hands were everywhere, massaging her breasts through the tight thin fabric before he slowly fingered the top button of her blouse. One by one, he released them.

They’ll see,” She whispered in a panicked hush.

“No one can see us.” His kissed her again, and she forgot her vulnerability. His tongue drew a decadent path from her ear down her neck where he sucked hard at her collarbone. He was marking her. She wanted him to.

Lowering to his knees, he lingered, pressing delicate kisses over her belly. Slowing over the place on her abdomen where the wounds had puckered the skin, he brushed his lips over the light pink scars. She had tried to ignore the imperfections, averting her eyes whenever they were drawn to it as she was dressing or undressing.

“Don’t, Rick…” She covered herself, feeling self-conscious. She tugged at his shoulders, urging him to his feet. He stood and captured her face in his hand.

“Alexis…I love you…all of you. Even your scars.” The deep, determined kiss that followed his words stole her breath. She wasn’t sure if she could have formed a word or taken a full breath anyway, the way he was holding her and touching her.

Her emotions were raw and she was desperate for him. She fisted her hands in his hair and kissed him hard. She needed more, the rest of him. Whether he knew it or not, she wasn’t about to let him go. 

“I love you too,” She whispered. She needed him to know, after everything they’d been through. 

He pulled away a fraction, his expression almost pained, as if those four little words cut him to the core. 

A second later he hoisted her up around his waist and slammed her against the door. She arched into the door as he caught her nipple in his mouth, palming her other breast with his hand. A violent craving burned inside her, so potent.

His erection pressed against her, teasing her. The connection sent a tingle of desire through her. But the sensation was tainted. She squeezed her eyes closed, drowning the doubt.

He slid his hand from her breast to her wrists, binding them in his one hand above her. She tensed in his arms. Her chest heaved, her rapid breathing betraying the battle raging inside her. Shit.

“Alexis?” 

She kissed him fiercely, closing the small separation between them, answering any question he might have. Damn it all, she needed him. No less than she’d ever needed him. 

He pulled back and caught her roaming touch, stilling her. “We don’t have to do this.” 

“I want to.” 

He hesitated. “I know. I want to too, but…give yourself some time.” 

“I’m fine,” she insisted, even as her voice wavered. 

Was she? She knew what she wanted, what she craved, but she recognized the tension. On edge, ready to react, she battled with her desire. The battle made her as angry as she was horny, starving for him to love her, to fuck her right through the feeling that she didn’t want to face. 

He kissed her, a slow chaste kiss that she barely felt through the heat and mist that collected on her skin. The gesture seemed to repeat his words. 

“I’m fine, Rick,” she repeated. “He didn’t do anything. I’m fine.” 

He stared down, concern swimming behind his eyes. “Just because he didn’t doesn’t mean you haven’t been through emotional hell. We’re not talking about banged up knuckles. You know as well as I do those wounds go deeper than either of us want them to. You need time.”

She shook her head, not wanting to show him her doubts, but it was too late. He leaned away, his blue eyes questioning her. 

“I can’t take this anymore. I don’t know if I’m ready or if I’ll freak out somewhere along the way, but we have to try because I can’t live like this, without you.” 

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“No, it’s not the same. You know it’s not.”

“I can see the hesitation in your eyes. I can feel it when you hold back. It shreds me. I can’t stand the idea of being the one who scares you and brings you back to those memories.” 

“I know... God, you’ll never know how sorry I am, for all of this.” She sagged against the wall, defeated by what Victor and his men had brought between them. 

“You don’t need to be sorry. Please believe me when I say that. None of this is or has ever been your fault.” 

“I wish I could make it go away. You have no idea how badly I want that... to have those memories wiped away forever. I don’t know if I’ll ever be free of it. It’s like this terrible ugly scar and I’m too exhausted to hide it anymore. You’ve seen it, and you don’t judge me or pity me for it. But I’m better because of you, because of us.” 

She brought them chest to chest again and kissed him softly. She breathed him in. His scent, his closeness, made her dizzy. 

“I’m not going to lie to you, Rick. I’m a little shell-shocked. I hate that I am, and that I reacted the way I did just now. And I can’t promise that I won’t again, in some small way. Physically, there’s no question about what I want, but I never know what will trigger my mind. You’re right that I need time. But I can’t spend that time away from you because you’re the one who makes me better. You’re the only one who can bring me through this, because I’ve never trusted someone the way I trust you. You have to believe me, that you’re the only one who can heal me, Rick.” 

She held him tightly, letting a tear fall down her cheek. The emotions running wild inside her were creeping over, one way or the other. 

“Alexis,” he breathed against her lips, his shoulders softened under her hands. 

“Please.” She kissed him again, more firmly, more demanding. 

He pulled away again slightly, worry etched into the lines at his eyes. She reached to him, but before she could seal the plea with another kiss he had lifted her up by the waist. She wrapped her legs around him and let him carry them to the middle of the room. He lowered her to the floor, never breaking the contact. 

He unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them down her hips, stopping just short of her pubic bone. He trailed hot open-mouthed kisses along her belly that had her breathless for more. She arched into his touch as he caressed the juts of her hip bones with his thumbs.

He pressed an unexpected kiss to her throat, nibbling her flesh. He traveled down her collarbone and passed between her breasts. His tongue slowed and circled one peak after the next. He sucked and licked slow velvety strokes all over her torso, spreading his attentions to any remote expanse of skin.

She gasped at the sensation of his tongue taunting and taking its sweet time to lick her flesh clean. Once he had, he slid a hand into her jeans and cupped her sex over her now soaked panties, and her eyes flew open. She caught his hand, stilling his journey. Breathing through the rapid beating of her heart, she struggled as a different kind of rush worked its way through her.   
His eyes widened, every muscle frozen in place. She searched for words as he waited for her to speak. 

“Don’t use your hands, okay?” Her voice was small. She hated what the words implied, but she couldn’t not tell him and risk this moment between them. 

The line of his jaw hardened, the muscle below twitching. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“It’s okay,” She said, avoiding the real reasons, reasons he’d likely already deduced. One of the least pleasant memories she’d had lately was of Ivan’s hands on her the day she escaped. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut until the image went away, but instead she focused on Rick. 

He slowly withdrew his hand. Now he was on his knees, penetrating her with his stare. Before he could respond, she kissed him. It was a kiss full of frustration and determination and more than anything, love. Their love was what could pull them through this. He met her passion. They breathed each other’s air and drank each other until the seconds turned into minutes. Until her lips were tender and swollen. The heat between them had made their skin sweat. Her hesitations weren’t gone, but they were far in the background.

Frenzied, she removed his shirt, licking and nipping at the skin leading to his pants, tugging him free. He sat up and stripped her out of her shirt, boots, jeans, and panties. He pushed her back, crawled over her body, and wrapped her legs snuggly around his waist. He covered her with fevered kisses, sucking her neck until her skin prickled with heated desire. He took her nipple in his mouth, circling the tender tip with the pad of his tongue and repeating the motion on the other.

She whimpered, desire thick in her veins and shifted anxiously beneath him, desperate for more contact.

He spread her legs around him. He notched at her opening and pushed in, slow enough to drive her a little crazy. She held her breath until he was rooted, stretching her fully.

He released his breath, rocking into her gently but not thrusting fully. 

She smiled and wrapped her legs around his waist. Gripping his hips between her thighs, she coaxed him to push into her again. He did, again and again, each movement a little more sure, each press of their bodies unwinding her and washing away every thought that could haunt her in the midst of this perfect moment

They loved that way, without words, his motions guided only by her own. They were in tune, as if his body heard her. With every surge of their bodies meeting, the fire inside her grew. She rushed her hands over his skin, wishing she could hurry his movements to sate this consuming hunger but loving the slow climb. The flame was no less intense, and the need to come no less potent. 

“Tell me when you’re going to come. Tell me what you need.” 

The desperation of his voice, his breath against her neck pushed her to the edge. 

“Oh, God. Now... I’m coming now.” 

The flash of heat rushed over her as the orgasm took hold. She marked his skin with her nails when she needed more. She crushed down around him, creating an acute friction between them. He drove deeper, pushing her to that oblivion where no one else had ever taken her.

“Alexis...” 

Over the pounding in her heart, she heard the question in his voice. He wanted to know she was with him, that they were okay to let go. He didn’t need to be so careful. She was mindless now, immune to the terrors when they were this close to rapture. 

“I love you. I love you so much,” She whimpered, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Everything was incredibly right now, finally. The words left her lips again and again. 

He took her hand in his, pressing it into the floor above her head. With the other, he gripped her hip and lifted her off the floor. He drove hard, and she cried out. The pleasure vibrated through her, soaring right over the climax that already had her breathless and weak. 

“Look at me,” he whispered. 

Her body responded to the smallest of his commands. She opened her eyes into his, and the passion and love she found within them made her chest ache. There was no denying that she loved this man.

“No one can take this away from us,” he rasped, surging into her. 

His eyes never left her as he took his pleasure, the cords of his muscles strung so tight. The taut knots of his abdomen clenched once more before a spasm rocked his frame. Her body hummed. Her chest expanded with warmth, and she inhaled his scent, basking in their sudden and fierce closeness. Love—a heady, pulsing, possessing wave of love—held her in its clutches. Forehead to forehead, they caught their breath between slow, passionate kisses

~THE WALKING DEAD~  
Rick awoke, knowing it was still early since the morning light had not yet turned from gray to pink. Alexis’s warm body was molded to his, giving him a sense of peace that he'd never known. Her breath was slow and even, signaling she was still asleep, and Rick allowed himself the moment to watch her slumber.  
Love was a small word for what he felt for Alexis. Maybe it was an obsession, this never-waning determination to make her his in every way she’d let him.

Carol had noticed, even warned him when she saw how she was changing him. He'd fought like hell to keep the upper hand between them to protect her, to keep her out of the path of those who would hurt one to destroy the other. He couldn’t lose control and risk losing something more important—the one person who’d come into his life and made it worth living.

Yes, she’d changed him. She’d pushed him. She’d walked into his life, five-feet-three inches of fiery independence. Her mere presence challenged him, getting under his skin. 

She hadn't even stirred as he had slipped out of their makeshift bed. She continued to slumber as he went around the small room, picking up his clothes. He quickly dressed and silently knelt next to her, letting his fingers ghost over her cheek and run affectionately through soft blonde bangs before grabbing his belt and the two-way radio and headed towards the burial grounds to have a long talk with someone he hadn't seen in quite some time. He missed his wife dearly and had longed to talk to her.  
In a small clearing, was their memorial for all those who had died. Over the months, Rick had watched more and more makeshift crosses be hammered into the ground, but there was one cross in particular that weighed heavier on his heart than any of the others. It was the cross that kept him visiting this place every day, even when he knew the grave was empty. Calloused fingertips brushed over the name engraved in the rough wood: Lori Grimes. Even after all these months, Rick could still picture his wife’s youthful face and warm smile.

Rick took a deep breath wondering where he should even begin. He knew Lori was dead and gone, but she still remained his closest friend in the world. And sometimes, in the silent pauses of their one-sided conversations he could swear that he could still feel his belated wife’s presence. He hoped Lori was near somehow, still with him in spirit, and listening to what he had to say.

"I know I haven’t stopped by in a long time, and I’m sorry.” Rick began. "I’ve been helping one of the new resident’s here get back on her feet. I haven’t told you about her before. She was Linden County’s District Attorney who went missing before any of this happened. She was barely clinging to life when we found her. The sick things they put her through. Her captor hadn’t even told her what had happened, though I can relate to what she had felt when she found out.”

"I didn't have much hope for her then," he continued as he put his hand on his holster. "But Lori, you should see the way she shines. I never thought I’d meet someone like her. She’s beautiful, smart. And strong. God, she’s so strong. Sometimes it blows me away.”

The glint of gold on his left ring finger caught his eye. His wedding band. He’d never taken it off. All these months since his wife’s death it had remained. He thought it was a symbol of his loyalty to her, but not he saw that it had been his excuse to cling to his past, to refuse to move forward.

“Lori, I...I love her. I didn't think I was even capable of love anymore but I do...I do, so much. I don’t know what it is…Call it chemistry. Call it her being the most frustrating female I’ve ever met. She defy’s me like it’s her job. It drives me crazy. But you don’t have to worry about Carl or Judith; she takes really good care of them even though Carl gives her a hard time.”

He touched the gold band lightly, twisted it around his finger. He could make a fresh start and redeem the regrets of his past. Carefully he pulled the band from his finger, and placed it in his left pocket.

“I hope you understand, Lori,” he whispered. “It’s time to move on.”

He turned and headed back to his sleeping lover. He switched on the two-way radio. The receiver crackled with a hiss-pop-crackle of static, as if the whole world were being fried on a cosmic griddle.

Suddenly, the two-way radio crackled to life.

"Rick Grimes," a smooth voice chuckled.

He recognized the voice. Victor.

A/N: Reviews, pretty please.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the late updates. Life has been literally hectic. With balancing my full-time job, part-time job, family and writing my original story there hardly has been time for anything. Anyhoo, sorry it took so long to get this out. I'm really hoping to finish this story before the new season of the Walking Dead begins.
> 
> Things are finally gonna pick up and I'm excited about the next chapter. (Which is almost complete)
> 
> Don't forget to drop a comment. Makes my day so much more awesome. Here is the next installment of Restoration. :)
> 
> Rated M for mature.

Restoration: Chapter 14

"Rick Grimes," Victor chuckled. "I would inquire as to why a dead man has come to slaughter my lackey, but I think I already know the answer."

Scanning the open area, Rick looked for any signs of movement, but everything was still.

Where was Victor?

Rick brought the radio up toward his mouth and used his index finger to push the black button that ran up the side of the radio. "Your employer got what he deserved," He growled into the front of the two-way radio, his voice low and dangerous like a wild animal. "And you'll be next."

Even though Rick couldn't see him, Victor's smirk stayed in place, amused by Rick's confidence.

"Big talk coming from someone who's got a gun pointed at his chest." Victor said.

Rick slowly lowered his head and noticed a red dot over his chest.

"I could easily put an end to your pathetic life. All I have to do is give the word. But what fun would that be?" Victor said. "Unless perhaps you want me to end it of course, would you like that, Rick? Times sure are tough. This world can take a toll on the living, the weak."

His voice was pleasant, gentlemanly, even as he spoke threatening words.

"What do you want, Victor?" Rick growled.

Victor chuckled. "Still the same ol' Rick Grimes I see. You really do take fun out of everything." He said. "Alright, fine. Let's cut to the chase. You have something that belongs to me. I want it back."

Rick clenched his jaw. "Alexis doesn't belong to you, Victor. She isn't leaving here. She's one of us. She stays."

"You caaan't always get what you want—" He broke off and hummed the last few bars of the Rolling Stones song.

"This conversation is over, Victor." Rick said. "Leave and don't ever come back."

"Now you listen here you sonofabitch," Victor growled. "That little cunt is mine. I own her and you will hand her over or I swear to God I will drive you down and you'll wish you never fucked with me, do you hear?"

"You took her against her will." Rick said. "You took everything away from her; passed her around to those men like she was a piece of meat. What more could you possibly take away from her?"

There was a long silence, then Victor said, "Everything she ever cared for. The only thing that gave her the will to survive in the first place. Would you like to hear what I intend to do with her?"

"I'm sure I know."

"Yes, some of it. Sex, that obvious." He said. "Maybe...what I want from you, is to be with me when I finally make Alexis snap. Instead of killing you in front of her to drive her over the edge, I'll drive her some other way. And you can watch."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Her swollen eyes opened and she groaned at the sight of morning spilling into the room. Her body hurt, fatigue and a general achiness that she couldn't quite pinpoint. She groaned again and turned her face into the pillow as memories from last night flooded her brain. Jesus. What a night. A content smile spread across her face.

She quickly dressed and strapped on her weapons before heading out, only to find Rick standing in the middle of the prison courtyard; two-way in hand.

Who was he talking to?

She stopped abruptly at the sound of a man's voice. "Alexis will definitely seek me...it's only a matter of time before she does."

She knew that voice. She knew it, and she feared it.

Victor.

She took a step back, her heart racing in anticipation of seeing Victor in the flesh.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

All this talking and the bastard's calm demeanor unnerved Rick even further. He expected him to shoot him, barge through the gates or something, but he didn't expect to have to chat with him, for God's sake, as if what they had been through was only a pleasant little road trip, a shared vacation that had taken a couple of interesting twists.

"Lexi..."

Rick spun around.

She was nothing short of terrified now. Her eyes were wide, her heartbeat skipping out of control.

Before she could even say a word, the air was filled with gunfire. Rick covered Alexis's body with his as bullets rained down around them, mostly hitting the crops, but some whizzed into the dirt right beside them.

Rick could hear Alexis scream as they kept up a steady barrage of gunfire, pausing only to slam in new clips.

The prison was chaos. The blur of frightened faces running from the danger. The noise. Screams and more shots.

After what felt like an eternity, but was only minute's, the gunfire ceased.

"This is the end result of hope and ideals. This is reality." Victor said. "Alexis, what is there for you in this reality? If you keep standing against me, you'll lose your friends one by one. This shall become a world where no one who acknowledges you will exist. The only thing that awaits you is your worst nightmare, which you know quite well! Pain and solitude."

The two-way went dead.

"Are you alright?" Rick said gently.

She shook her head.

"Breathe, Alexis."

She inhaled on command, her eyes unable to shift from the two-way radio that rested in the grass. She couldn't think. She could barely breathe.

"Alexis, honey, look at me."

She swallowed over the tight prickle in her throat. Tears burned her eyes as she met his gaze. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "Because of me-"

"Stop," Rick said. "None of this is on you."

She shook her head in disbelief, tears falling.

She searched for words, but none came. He brushed away the wetness on her cheeks and helped her to her feet, steadying her with his hand at her elbow.

"Y'all alright?" Daryl rushed up to them, Tyreese and Sasha on his heels.

"We're fine," Rick replied. "What about the others?"

"Just minor injuries. Hershel and Carol are tending to them now." Tyreese said.

"We can't wait anymore. We need to take out Victor." Sasha said quickly.

"That might be difficult." Rick said. "He's surrounded at all times by his men."

"I think we should start with the others first." Sasha suggested.

"How on earth would we do that, we don't even know where the hell they are?" Alexis slapped her hands down to her sides.

"You're right. We don't." Rick said. "But we can start off by where we first found you."

Alexis shook her head in disbelief. "No. No way." She said. "I want Victor dead just as much as any of you, but he's banking on you reacting just as you all have. You'll be slaughtered before you could even land a finger on him. It's suicide."

"Alexis-"

'No. We're done here."

"Stop."

"Stop what?" She snapped.

"What do you want me to do? Wait around for him to attack us again?" Rick said.

"You're smart, Rick. I think you can figure it out."

"Why are you running from this?"

"I'm not running. I just don't want to lose any more people I care about."

"Alexis, we really don't have a choice here." Rick said. "You heard what he said."

"We always have a choice. But the choice you're about to make is going to cost Carl and Judith their father. They just lost their mother; they don't need to lose their father too."

She turned back to leave.

He rubbed his face and sighed. "He said something to me."

Alexis rolled her eyes. "I'm not in the least bit interested in anything that maniac had to say."

"He has something of yours, Alexis."

She took a deep breath and turned slowly to face him. "What?"

He's adamant that you'll return to him on your own free will, why?"

Alexis let out a short laugh. "Rick, there is nothing and I mean nothing that could convince me to go back to him or to that torture chamber."

"I had asked Victor what more he could possibly take away from you and he said everything you ever cared for. The only thing that gave you the will to survive in the first place."

Her palms prickled with heat and became damp. She rubbed them nervously on her jeans as the silence grew between them.

"Could he have your family?" Concern painted Tyreese's features.

"Don't you think if he had my family I'd know? They either got away when the outbreak occurred or their dead." She said. "He's just trying to get into my head now. It's how he plays his twisted little games."

She turned and left them without another word.

She walked inside the prison until her feet wouldn't take her any further.

Dirty fucking liar.

She'd taken the half empty wine bottle out of the cupboard in the library and decided to empty it all at once. To hell with Victor. To hell with this terrible fucking day.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Two weeks later...

Something had changed between Rick and Alexis over the past couple of weeks. Over all the push and pull, the snags in the road, they were learning to move forward together. Sometimes they were out of step and stumbled, but they were finding a new kind of rhythm. Every time they trusted each other, they moved with a little more grace.

Rick dropped the bags inside the door and turned to her. He pressed against her as she wove her arms around his neck.

"I missed the hell out of you today," he said, his grip tightening on her hip.

Being with Rick made every moment just a little sweeter. A lot sweeter. He gave everything a kind of wonder that made her question how she'd ever survived the tedious existence she called life before he walked in and turned everything upside down.

"I missed you too. I always do."

"How much time do we have?"

"Enough." Alexis smiled. "Beth is watching Judith and Carl is with Patrick."

He growled and closed his mouth over hers. He claimed her with gentle urgency, teasing her with tiny licks of his tongue.

He grabbed her hips and sandwiched her between his body and the wall behind her. She didn't know what it was about him pinning him to hard surfaces, but she fucking loved it. She slid her hands through his hair and kissed him back helplessly, so easily forgetting herself in his embrace.

His thigh found the space between her legs, exerting the perfect amount of pressure so the crease of her jeans rubbed through her panties.

"Oh, God."

She pushed her jeans past her hips to the floor and tugged off her bra and shirt at once and he separated long enough to let it fall. Then he was back, his mouth at her breast, sucking hard. One, and then the next. She whimpered when his teeth came down around the sensitive tip.

She fumbled with his shirt, tugging it over his head. He unzipped his pants, freeing his full erection. She bit her lip hard.

He hooked her leg over his hip and positioned himself at her entrance. He pushed in slow, letting her accommodate him gradually, retreating again only to push deeper. By the time he filled her completely, she'd grown slick around him.

Her head fell back against the door with a small cry.

"Rick."

Her core pulsed around his thick penetration. They stayed that way, breathless, connected, desire shooting through her veins. She dug her fingernails into his side, pulling him closer, deeper.

"Fuck, you feel amazing. I thought about this all day, being buried deep inside you. All fucking day, I haven't been able to think about anything else." He pinned her harder, pushing in deeper as he did.

She gasped. "More."

With the small plea, he cupped his hands under her ass, lifting her so her legs wrapped around him. He leveraged her against the wall. The weight of her body combined with the strength of his had them joined tightly. She was tense with anticipation and just as relieved by the welcome sensation of having him there, their bodies united again. It had only been hours, and the tender flesh between her thighs did nothing to lessen her craving for him.

She held his face in her hands, the stubble from the day rough on her palms. He looked deep into her eyes. Lust, love, and that intense possessiveness swam in those blue depths, taking her breath away all over again.

"You're mine, Alexis."

As the words hit her ears, he pushed upward. She clenched around him instantly, gasping at the bite of discomfort. He was deep, impossibly deep.

"I'm yours," She breathed.

He surged up again. The friction of their bodies and his tension took over her senses. She closed her eyes, the promise of orgasm suddenly close. Muscles tense, she tightened around him helplessly.

Her voice wavered, strangled by the rush of his powerful thrusts, one following the next in rapid succession now. His name filled the air between them, again and again as she begged for more. She clenched down around him, reveling in the friction as it unraveled her, stroke by stroke.

She opened her eyes, desire blurring her vision as she ran a hand through his hair, gripping at the roots. Silenced with their kiss, he groaned. He shoved her hips against the hard steel of the door as he drove into her. In seconds she was drunk on his taste, lost. Lost in him, flying high on this feeling, surrendering to it completely. He took her fiercely, love and desperation passing through every touch. They climbed together, in a rush for the release that would bring them together in the only way that mattered right now.

"Rick... oh, God. Oh, fuck."

The grip of her thighs around him weakened as the climax crept up, taking hold of her mind. She couldn't think of anything but Rick, this love. He was the answer when nothing else in her life seemed right. This made sense. She needed this, him, in a way that made no sense and perfect sense.

"Now," he gritted out.

The simple word pushed her over. Her mouth opened with a soundless cry as the orgasm took its hold. She clung to him, her focus pinpointed on the throb of his cock plunging into her, guiding her over the edge to that perfect place. A few more powerful thrusts and she came with a scream. He dug into her, his grip rough, until every muscle went taut, his body buried deeply within her.

"Alexis!"

His voice was hoarse, sounding as stripped down as she felt. Arms holding her closer, as if she'd disappear if he didn't, he caught his breath, brushing his lips along her neck.

All her strength left with the orgasm, a fact that became evident when he finally loosened his embrace. When her feet found the floor, her legs wobbled. He held her steady, hands at her hips, as he slipped out of her.

He moved away, zipping his pants up as she quickly dressed.

"How was your day?" He asked.

"Good. Read to the children for an hour and then assisted Hershel on rebuilding the crops. Yours?"

"Not so good." He picked up the bags laying beside the door. "We didn't find much. We're going to refuel and head back out in the morning."

She stared up at him, concern swimming behind her eyes. "You're leaving again?"

"Yeah," He replied. "We're thinking about hitting Linden County. The drive is a lot farther than I'd like, but there might be something left worth taking."

Alexis eyes widen a fraction, "Oh," She hesitated a moment. "Can I come with you?"

"Alexis." An undercurrent of warning came through as he uttered her name. "If you think I'm taking any chances with your safety, you're crazy."

"It's my home, Rick." She said.

"I realize that," He said. "But-"

"I know my way around Linden more than any of you. I can help." She cut him off short.

"Do I need to remind you what is out there?"

She gave him a hard stare. "Maybe I'm stronger than you give me credit for."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "I have no doubts about your strength, Alexis."

She walked past him into the dim corridor. His footsteps followed behind her.

"Are you going to listen to me?"

"No," She answered brusquely."I can't stand the idea of having all of you hovering around me, waiting for something terrible happen. I want to be trusted to take care of myself, at least a little bit."

"Alexis…" His voice was softer.

She stopped in front of the Cell Block C entrance.

All her life she'd preferred to be outside as much as possible—she went swimming every night in the summer and skied every weekend in the winter. Years ago she saw a bear in a zoo who kept running along the fence, one end to the other. He'd worn a deep groove in the ground. She remember wondering if he'd rather be dead than live a life like that.

"I have to get out of here. I'm going crazy. I feel like I'm being treated like a goddamn prisoner—this is bullshit."

"Look at me," he whispered.

Reluctantly she turned, positioning her body to face his. A smile softened his features as he traced her jaw, running a sensual line over her lips.

"I love you, even when you're marching around all pissed and indignant. But you're safer here at the prison than out there risking your life."

She sighed heavily. "Risking my life and throwing it away are two different things."

He stood in front of her and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him. "Are you always this persistent?"

"Only when I want something."

"How did I get so lucky?" He couldn't hide his smile.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis could hardly believe she was staring at Linden County. It seemed like ages since she had seen her home, and now she was finally here.

Rick's group reached the other side of Linden, where there didn't appear to be any trace of survivors or walkers.

"This is insane," Alexis said quietly as she stared at the ghost town in awe. "This town used to be so lively. Now it looks like something out of a horror movie. It just doesn't seem real."

"Doesn't anyone find it strange that we haven't passed a single walker since we arrived?" Glenn asked.

Glancing away from the two-lane, Rick said, "Take that as a sign of good luck,"

As the group began to approach their destination, they started to find more and more walkers.

Without warning, Rick slammed the brakes hard. The car skidded to a stop. Two dozen walkers were running up the street in full speed pursuit.

The horde was too thick to drive through.

He threw the transmission into reverse and mashed the accelerator to the floor.

"God damn! You drive like shit!" Daryl pushed himself away from the dashboard and back into his seat.

Walkers were swarming up behind them.

"Hurry!" Alexis screamed.

The brakes locked. Tires skidded again. Walkers pounced on the car.

"Shit!" Rick turned the car and maneuvered between the cars on the road leading to their destination.

The walkers above them beat loudly on the roof.

The car bounced as two more walkers slammed into its side. The windshield cracked under the persistent fist of the walker on the hood.

Rick shoved the car into reverse and spun the wheels as he backed out. He ran over a soft bump and counted one walker dead. With the crazy walkers clawing at the glass all around, he backed into a parked pickup he didn't see. He shifted the transmission, punched the accelerator to the floor, and the front-wheel drive pulled the car hard right, into two more walkers. They rolled off the hood as he raced toward the exit.

He swerved hard to make the turn, and the walker on the hood slipped away and skittered across the asphalt. He raced out onto the street and caught another walker with the passenger side bumper, breaking out the headlight.

As he passed, every single head snapped in their direction. Every one of the walker's flowed into the street after them. Good God, there were hundreds.

He pushed the car to sixty as another one of the infected glanced off the passenger side of the vehicle. He smashed the brakes hard and rubber screamed on the asphalt as the car floated into a left turn.

Alexis's eyes widen at the unexpected wire barrier ahead of them.

"Look out!" Alexis screamed.

"Swing the car to the side!" Glenn yelled.

Rick did as instructed. The steering wheel spun back and forth in his hands, burning his palms as he tried determinedly to hold on to it.

He tapped the brakes, and that seemed to be the absolute wrong thing to do because the vehicle yawned dangerously to the left, but when he let up on the brakes, that also seemed to be wrong because it yawned even more wildly to the right, and Rick knew that they were going to tip over.

Then the vehicle crashed onto its side, sliding three hundred feet from the wire barrier, the flat boom echoing back and forth between the deserted buildings, attracting more surrounding walkers before coming to rest.

Alexis woke face down in the vehicle, aware that she must have been unconscious for a minute of two. Gradually as her eyes focused and the pungent gasoline fumes scathed her throat, causing her to cough.

Glenn clung to the door handle up there to avoid dropping down on top of Alexis. The rear driver's side, where she lay, was no essentially the floor. The window at her side provided a close-up view only of blacktop.

As she shifted, she became aware of a sharp stinging along the left side of her head, and when she put a hand to her scalp, she discovered that she was bleeding.

For a moment she laid perplexed, but realized the car had flipped over; that the four of them were trapped with a horde of walkers approaching them.

Senses aroused, Alexis started to panic and wasted no time being astonished to be alive. Instantly she disengaged her safety harness and then Glenn's.

She struggled out of her seat, turned around, and perched on the back of the driver's seat with her front to the rear window and kicked out the windshield with both feet.

She got to her feet beneath her, pulled the pistol, and squeezed the trigger at a walker who was only steps away.

Bam, bam, bam.

All three shots missed.

She stopped and steadied her gun. The walker was staggering at her with wild eyes and chomping teeth.

Breathe!

She pulled the trigger again, once, twice. She fell. She then reached to Glenn and said, "What about Rick and Daryl?"

Glenn shook his head. "I think they're unconscious."

Alexis took him by the shoulder and pulled. "Hurry," she urged.

Glenn began to make a move to stand, but winced and sat back down as he subconsciously brought a hand down to his ankle.

"Is it broken?" Alexis asked over her shoulder as she took out another incoming walker.

Glenn shook his head, hiding any pain. "No, it's just a sprain. I'm fine." He forced himself to his feet, using the vehicle for support until he could test out how badly sprained his ankle was.

Glenn put pressure on his left leg to walk, biting his lip from the sharp pain.

With a few magazines for the pistol, she knew she couldn't defend them for long if anymore walkers swarmed toward them.

With her voice stressed to the point of betraying her fear for their predicament, she shouted, "We need to get out of here!"

The city was solid with running walkers-the sound of hundreds of running feet and heavy breathing rolled across the city like a swarm of ghostly locusts.

Glenn fired his rifle indiscriminately at the horde, but the hundred-legged anemone absorbed the bullets with no effect. Nevertheless, she followed his example with thirteen more futile bullets. Dozens, maybe hundreds, were distracted by the crack of their guns and altered their direction to run at them.

Five steps behind Alexis, a walker rounded the corner, screaming and grasping. Suddenly, Daryl threw open the passenger side door and aimed his bow.

Pointing his bow at her chest, he yelled, "Duck!"

It took her a moment to comprehend, then chose to trust him. She hit the floor like she was sliding into second base.

As soon as her body fell out of his sights, he fired an arrow at the walker who'd been on her heels. His head threw back and he lurched to the side. Faster than he thought was possible, Alexis was back on her feet and running toward the truck.

"Uh, I could really use some help right about now!" Glenn shouted over his shoulder.

Daryl reached into the vehicle, retrieving a rifle and said to Alexis, "Get Rick, we got this. Go!"

Alexis gave a quick nod and lifted her leg to kick in the windshield and pulled him out.

"Rick...Rick?" She called, slapping his cheek with her hand, "Please wake up."

There were at least a dozen dead or dying in the street and another ten or twelve stumbling over the bodies of the fallen. They were coming around the corner faster than Daryl and Glenn could kill them.

"We gotta go, Alex! We gotta go!" Daryl yelled over to her.

"I'm working on it!" She yelled back over her shoulder before turning her attention back to Rick."

"Rick, wake up!" She slapped his cheek with her hand again. He groaned.

"Hey. What?" Rick mumbled, then focused on the horde that was hurtling toward them. "Shit."

Rick winced and grabbed his shoulder as he struggled to sit up.

"Let me see," Alexis examined his shoulder and realized the head of the humerus was forcibly removed from its socket. "It's dislocated. You're not going to be able to shoot properly in your condition; I won't be able to do anything about it until we get someplace safe."

"I'll be fine."

"Tell me what to do. I can help." She insisted.

"I got it, Alexis," Rick winced from the pain. "Just stay behind me."

She clenched her teeth and breathed through the string of curses that ran through her head.

"Rick, for once in your life, shut up and let me help." She panicked. "Tell me what to do?"

"Fine," He grunted and reached beside him for the assault rifle. "I need you listen to me."

"Okay." She said. She hefted the rifle.

"Magazine goes in there," He then pointed to the release. " Release is there."

"Okay."

"Make sure it latches." He said.

She quickly nodded and latched the magazine as instructed.

"Now you're gonna pull back the operating rod and rounds will feed up. Keep squeezing the trigger for rapid fire."

"Got it."

She raised the rifle and pointed it toward the now solid mass of walkers that were only feet away.

She pulled the trigger and a burst of several bullets ripped toward the horde. Whether she hit anything or whether the mass flowed over her downed targets, she couldn't tell.

The mob surged ahead in blind hungry rage. She fired again.

Her thirty-round magazine emptied. She ejected it, grabbed another from the bag and slapped it into the receiver. She mercilessly sent another thirty rounds into the horde moving in her direction.

She looked behind her.

Gunshots cracked, one right after the other, as fast as Rick could squeeze them off.

He tipped the expended cartridges out of his Colt Python and plucked six more bullets from his breast pocket and loaded them into the speed loader as fast as his injured shoulder would let him and snapped the cylinder shut.

Behind Rick, Alexis shot at the walkers pursuing them. Her anger and disgust blossomed. She turned the M4A1 stock downward, stepped over to the walker and smashed the butt of her gun down between his malevolent eyes.

A jolt went through his body, and he rolled over on his back, arms and legs moving in a random swimming fashion. She smashed his skull again, then again, then again—until it was deformed and bleeding heavily.

He went still.

She stood over the walker with the butt of her gun dripping with blood, breathing heavily from her exertion. She felt no cathartic release. If anything, she was more angry than before she'd beaten him to death. What was happening to her?

Another walker rounded the corner.

"Fuck you too!" she shouted and smashed his head in a similar fashion—again and again—until he lay limp at her feet. She stared down at the bloody mess, lost in the darkness of her anger.

She felt a tug at her shoulder and she turned, ready to for more violence, but it was Rick, wide-eyed and worried.

Daryl took Glenn's arm and wrapped it around his neck and turned.

"We gotta move, now! This place is crawling with fucking walkers."

Alexis grabbed the duffle bags from the truck and made a beeline toward the city. C'mon!" She shouted at the three men. It was going to be a foot race for their lives.

"We need to shake them off. " Rick said.

"Most of the alleyways are sealed off from what I can tell." Alexis panted. "We can draw them into the nearest alley and jump over the barrier. That should hold them off in the mean time."

They turned down the next alley way and weren't met with many walkers. Alexis drew her pistol and machete and took each walker down one by one so they could clear a path for them to run through. They quickly jumped on the steel wire barrier and climbed over landing directly on the other side.

Alexis fell back against the wall, slid down to the floor, and finally breathed. Two breaths later, the wire barrier protruded with the impact of bodies smashing into it.

"Damn! Persistent fuckers!" Daryl growled.

"How much pressure do you think that barrier can withstand?" Glenn breathed heavily as they watched the walkers slipped their hands through the wire trying to break through.

"Let's not wait around to find out." Rick said as he wiped the sweat off his brow.

"C'mon, I know a place where we can lay low for a little while." Alexis said.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait everyone. I broke this chapter into two parts...sorry! The next chapter is pretty much done, just got to proof read it. Thanks to Stacey73, Angelicedg, tatyasdias and Jasmin Jade xx for reviewing! Also thanks to those who favorited/followed Restoration. Here is the next installment. Reviews please!

Restoration: Chapter 15

A great host of walkers flowed out of the alleyway, running through the streets, and tumbling over one another. With a million simultaneous thoughts of death and desperate deliverance blazing through their synapses, their hands automatically pushed another magazine into their rifles.

"We need to get out of here," One panted, as they stopped behind a dumpster in an alley.

"We can't stay in this alley, but we can't go back out there either. This fucking place is crawling with Roamers. What in the hell was Victor thinking sending us down here," Another said.

"Now where do we go, Ivan?" One asked.

Ivan squatted down, trying to catch his breath. "We're not leaving here until we hit that spot. That place could either be a bonanza or it could be total loss."

"It's suicide." The man was irritated and probably regretting his decision to come along with them.

"If you think you can do better, go. Go ahead. Let's see how far you get," Ivan growled.

The man fumed, "Fuck this. I'm not waiting around to be eaten." The man stepped out behind the dumpster and with a determined look on his face, made his way through the maze of the dead toward the middle of the street.

Three clicks echoed as fire spat from the end of the Ivan's gun. A bloody mist erupted from the man's back. For the smallest fraction of a second, surprise froze on his face. The group gasped.

"Whaddaya say? Any more takers?" Ivan said without emotion as their now dead friend crumpled to the asphalt.

The five men shook their head immediately. Without speaking, they followed Ivan toward their destination.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

"Just a little further," Alexis said.

Alexis pointed her machete at a nearby house.

The front door was ajar. Alexis cautiously pushed it open as Daryl came up to watch her back. He checked their flanks for walkers. None.

Alexis stepped into the house. She was tense. She was tentative. She feared what she might find. Her breathing was ragged, but they hadn't exerted themselves. Her smile, a dam that held a back a river of emotions, crumbled in the flood. Daryl paused halfway in and listened. There was a noise coming from somewhere inside. He didn't know where, but he guessed what. Daryl crossed the foyer and leaned into the kitchen as Glenn closed the door behind them.

The house itself was nothing short of impressive. The ceilings were high, characterized by exposed dark wood beams and beautiful porcelain tile. The furniture and decor were muted with periodic pops of color.

A wall covered with dusty framed photos chronicled the lives of Alexis and her family. Alexis was a member of the mathletes. Alexis played clarinet. A younger, fuller Alexis stood proud and stern for her District Attorney portrait.

What they assumed to be Alexis's daughter, sitting on a pony at a young age. Alexis's husband was in some of the pictures, arms around his wife and baby, always smiling.

Daryl looked back at her, his face taut, and his jaw clenched. He shook his head.

The kitchen was empty.

She followed him across the living room to the hall.

The sound was louder. Just as Daryl became certain what it was, she bolted up the hall. She must have figured it out as well.

It was a walker.

He hurried to follow.

She stopped at the closed bedroom door, Aubrey's room. After a few moments, Alexis took a deep breath and placed her hand on the door knob. She turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open.

A wave of relief came over her that it wasn't Aubrey in this room, but it was quickly replaced by a reminder of the pain of their separation.

Alexis drew her knife. She jabbed and drove her knife up through the walker's larynx. The walker rolled onto his back, his teeth still gnashing at Alexis, until her machete cleaved his face and he died.

The house fell suddenly silent. The ugly business in that room was finished.

In the hall, Daryl froze in his footsteps.

He wondered, was Alexis's smile dying while he listened, while he cringed? Would she now wear the frown of the emotionally damaged, the same one worn now by so many?

There was too much emotion in that room for him to enter the fray. He'd rather face a horde of walkers. He withdrew past the only other door off the hall. It was also closed. If something was inside, He'd know soon enough.

He took up a position in the living room at the entrance to the hall. From there, he could see the front door, the back door, and of course, the hall. Nothing moved.

On her way to Aubrey's bed, her leg brushed the baby's blanket on her basket. She picked it up and pressed her face into it, breathing in the last traces of her scent. Her daughter was still out there—somewhere, a fact that gave her solace and tormented her all at the same time. She swallowed against the tears that burned her eyes. Now was not the time for that.

A few moments later, Alexis had joined them with a grimace on her face and tears in her eyes.

After a time, Rick softly asked, "Alexis?"

Alexis didn't move.

They listened for movement in the house. They heard only silence.

The only infected in the house was that Alexis had killed in the back bedroom. Whether that walker had killed her family or whether it was her family was the burning question.

They shuddered at the thought.

Alexis dropped the bloody machete onto the floor and pointed at the couch to Rick's left. "Sit,"

Rick did as instructed and sheplaced his uninjured shoulder against the couch, serving to stabilize his body for when she maneuvered his injured shoulder.

"Daryl, stand in front of Rick and lift the wrist on the affected side until the arm is horizontal to the floor." Alexis instructed. "Now you're going to place the other hand palm-down on the collarbone of the affected side. Now continue to hold his affected arm horizontally and pull his arm toward you. It'll serve as a counterbalance."

Alexis placed her thumb on Rick's shoulder blade on the affected side. She made sure her thumb was directed over the lowest tip of the shoulder blade and applied firm pressure moving the lower part of the shoulder blade toward the middle of the his back.

She then placed her other hand on the top portion of the affected shoulder blade and applied pressure for stabilization while Daryl continued to pull Rick's arm toward him.

Rick let out a groan as the Humerus moved back into the Glenoid. He let out a breath of relief and lifted his gaze to hers. "Thank You."

She gave a curt nod and turned to Glenn but Rick captured her hand. Rick turned to Daryl and Glenn. "You guys know the drill. Medicine cabinets and first aid kits. And if we can eat it, we take it."

Both men nodded and retreated into the kitchen.

Rick turned his attention back to Alexis and asked, "Everything okay?"

She studied him carefully, wondering where all this was going.

"Yeah, it's fine. Just find it a little hard being here, especially since everything that went down with Victor occurred in this very house."

Rick sighed and straightened. "That's not what I'm talking about, Alexis," he said. "I'm talking about the way you handled those two walkers earlier."

In a post-tantrum rationalization, she tried to reconcile her emotions with her actions. It didn't make sense. She tried to blame it on her anger at Victor, Dominic, the stress, anybody, anything but her.

"They were coming after us," She answered. "I had no choice."

"There were other methods you could've used, but instead you decided to bludgeon them to death with a rifle."

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. When no words followed, he inched closer. He feathered a touch over her hand. She turned it up and laced their fingers together. He leaned his head back on the couch.

"Talk to me."

She exhaled unsteadily. "What do you want me to say, Rick? That I'm slowly going off the deep end?"

Rick shook his head and said, "Don't say that."

She laughed roughly. "I saw the way you looked at me. For the first time I saw genuine fear in your eyes and that tells me something."

Head down, she grabbed her machete and bag and disappeared down the hallway toward assist Daryl and Glenn.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Rick spotted a framed-out square in the center of the corridor ceiling. Alexis swung her feet through the hole and onto the rungs. Rick held the ladder steady until her feet found the floor.

"So what's the plan?" She asked.

"We agreed we should go through Quality Foods we passed on the way here, see if there's anything left worth taking."

"You want to go toward the hungry mob that tried to kill us?

"lf it means food, yes."

She nodded with a sigh. "Fine. I know a way I can get us there without getting us killed, or burning through more ammunition. The courthouse has an access panel that leads down to tunnels to where we could access nearly anywhere in the city.

"Guess I made the right choice bringing you along," He smirked, and she rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder, trying to hide her smile before heading back downstairs.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Rick, Daryl, Glenn and Alexis crept around back of the store where the loading dock as located. Part of the shutter door was slightly lifted and left them enough space to crawl under and closed it from the inside.

Daryl stepped to the door and dropped to his knees. He grabbed the flashlight from Rick and peered under only to see it was clear. He signaled the others the okay and they crawled under the door and into the store, shutting the metal door behind them.

"Alright, let's make this quick," Rick said. "Look around, see if there is anything we can use."

They gave a nod in the affirmative and the group dispersed immediately in different directions.

She put the flashlight in her mouth and held it with her teeth so that the light shone on the almost full shelves while she shrugged her backpack off. She dropped her pack onto the floor and began to chuck various canned goods and boxed foods into the bag. Once finished, she zipped up her back and proceeded down the next aisle.

She sauntered down the cosmetic aisle and stopped in front a fragrance cabinet. Alexis took the top off and brought the bottle under her nose. She sprayed the perfume onto her neck and rubbed her wrists against the moist droplets. The fragrance was remarkable.

She placed the small bottle in her back pocket and moved on. She came to a sudden stop as she noticed Glenn was grabbing a few boxes of pregnancy tests.

"Is Maggie pregnant?" Her eyes widened.

Glenn hesitated but managed to shake his head. "I don't think so, but, it's a possibility."

Silence lingered between them until Glenn spoke up. "You and Rick are...well you know," he shifted his weight a little, as if the question he was about to ask made him uncomfortable."You're not worried about getting pregnant?"

"No," She paused taking in a deep breath. "Because it's physically impossible for me to get pregnant now."

"What?" Confusion crossed his face.

Her free hand rested over her belly, that wasteland where she could have held a life.

A ghost of a smile passed over her lips. "During a part of my time with Victor, where I was held, I was sterilized." She said quietly. "He thought it was one less thing to worry about."

"I'm sorry." Glenn said.

"Don't be." Alexis said. "I couldn't fathom bearing one of their children."

"Does Rick know?"

She shook her head. "Never told him. Never told anyone till just now."

"I just wish we didn't have to live with these walkers or plunderers threatening to come between us. Every day is an opportunity for things to go wrong."

She caught his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Glenn."

He lifted his gaze to hers.

"Stop waiting for something bad to happen. The best thing you can do is love her, show her you care, and make the most out of every minute you have. Stop trying to control what you can't control."

Glenn smiled. "Thanks, Alexis."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Outside, Rick and Daryl were packing up the truck they had found.

"We have enough gasoline for a long while. I think it's best we don't leave the gas pumps for Victor and his men." Rick said and with one hand he pulled a thick ratchet strap out of his bag.

"Here, you ain't gonna be able to do anything with that shoulder for a couple of days." Daryl grabbed the strap and wrapped the it around the truck bed from bottom to top, securing the freight.

"Yeah," Rick said slowly.

"Guess it was good you brought Alex along after all." The ratchet strap creaked as he tightened it.

"Was it?" Rick asked.

Daryl turned his head toward him. Before he could question him, they noticed a group of men heading toward their location. Rick and Daryl hunched behind the truck as the group walked around toward the front of the store.

"Shit." Rick cursed.

Alexis zipped up her backpack and looked over to Glenn. "I'm done here. How about you?"

"Yeah." He said limping toward her.

She stared at him, concern swimming behind her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm good, " He replied, "just ready to head back to Maggie and the others."

"Me too. I have something I really want to give to Carl once we get back." She said with a grin.

As she stepped out of the aisle, Alexis heard the door open and six men wearing camouflage and army boots entered. A growl of wind came with them, and then the door swung shut.

Her breath caught in her throat, and then she exhaled with a whispered, "Oh, Jesus."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone. I’ve had this chapter pretty much done at the time but with work and my family, it’s been kind of hard to get this out. Anyhoo, I think there is about three chapters left of Restoration after this... if it goes my way. I plan on trying to finish this whole story by the time The Walking Dead season 6 premiere airs in Oct.
> 
> Thanks to Angelicedg, Stacey73, Smokey-eyed-amazon warrior and msgemgem for reviewing on Fanfiction. Thanks to all the kudos by my readers on Archiveofourown. 
> 
> Reviews please.

As she stepped out of the aisle, Alexis heard the door open and six men wearing camouflage and army boots entered. A growl of wind came with them, and then the door swung shut.

Her breath caught in her throat, and then she exhaled with a whispered, "Oh, Jesus."

She could sense the predatory presence, a subtle new pressure in the air, not dissimilar to that proceeding a violent thunderstorm.

“Get down. Hide.” Alexis whispered urgently to Glenn.

“Where did you learn how to shoot?” The man laughed.

“Man...Screw you.”

“You had an entire flock and you hit nothing.”

“I’m about to hit you.” He threatened.

She leaned around the corner and recognized a familiar face. Ivan stood in the center of the five-man squad, holstering his gun and drawing his knife as the door closed behind them.

Everything stopped moving. The room turned cold and silent. She heard her heart beat, a deafening uneven thud, pulsing an icy pain through her veins, chilling her to the bone. In a room with others, she was alone. Alone with her memories and the shame of what he’d left her with. A sick repulsion twisted through her as she tried to comprehend the horrible nightmare standing in this very building.

Alexis heard herself talking to God. An incoherent, beseeching babble. She clenched her teeth and choked on the words, though it was unlikely that her voice could have carried to the front of the store over their constant prattle.

“Wait. Wait here. I’m gonna draw them away from here,” she told Glenn, urging him to hide by some coolers and freezers.

"You can't handle all of them on your own," Glenn whispered incredulously. 

"Neither can you. You can barely walk,” She shrugged off her backpack and set it beside Glenn. “I’ll come back for you.”

"Alexis!" He whispered urgently.

Safety lay in movement, she leaned into the light and looked around the corner into the aisle in front of the coolers. The six men were not in sight, although she could hear them moving at the other end of the store: crisp furtive rustlings like a rat in a drift of autumn leaves.

On her hands and knees, stomach clenched in terror, she crawled into the spill of sun light far enough to look along the narrow aisle,

She looked toward the far end of the store. The men weren’t in sight, but across one wall their slouched shadows swelled huge and then shrank and then glided away like that of a moth swooping past a flood lamp.

She heard movement, the creak of the counter gate, footsteps. Half nauseated from protracted fear, she was gloriously heartened when it seemed that they were leaving. 

Then she realized that the footsteps were not crossing toward the door at the front of the store. They were approaching her.

She was squatting on her haunches, back pressed to the end panel of the shelf row, not immediately sure where they were. In the first of the three aisles, toward the front of the store? In the center aisle immediately to her left?

No.

The third aisle.

To her right.

One was coming past the coolers. Not fast. Not as if he knew that she was here and intended to whack her.

Rising into a crouch but staying low, Alexis eased to the left, into the middle of the three passages. Here the glow from the sunlight, one row removed, bounced off the acoustic-tile ceiling but provided little illumination. All the merchandise was shelved with shadows.

She started forward toward the cashier's counter, thankful for her soft-soled shoes. He was at least halfway down the third aisle by the time she started forward along the second. But one was taking his time while she was scuttling as fast as she could, and she reached the head of her aisle before he arrived at the end of his.

At the terminus of the shelf row, instead of a flat panel like the one at the far end, there was a freestanding wire carousel rack holding paperback books, and Alexis nearly collided with it when she turned the corner. She caught herself just in time, slipped around the rack, and sheltered against it, between aisles once more.

The man’s footsteps brought her back to the moment. Judging by the sound of them, he was no longer in the third aisle. He had turned the corner at the back of the store and was now in the middle passage.

He was coming forward, leisurely covering the same territory over which Alexis had just scuttled.

What the hell is he doing?

She went around the paperback carousel into the third aisle, which the man had just left, and she headed toward the end of the shelf row again. She stayed close to the merchandise on the left, away from the glass windows of the sun light on the right, to avoid throwing a shadow on the ceiling tiles, which he might see.

When she was moving, she could still hear his heavy footsteps, but unless she stopped to listen, she couldn’t tell in which direction he was headed. Yet she didn’t dare stop to take a bearing on him, lest he circle again into this aisle and catch her in the open. When she reached the end of the row and turned the corner, she half expected to discover that he had changed directions, to collide with him, and to be caught.

But he wasn’t there.

Sitting on her haunches, Alexis leaned back against the end panel of the shelf row, the very spot from which she’d started. She listened. No footsteps. Only silence.

She spotted movement and tensed. She put a hand on her holstered pistol and prepared herself for whatever might come next.

“What’s that?” The man came to a sudden stop and whiffed the air. “What’s that smell?”

Alexis closed her eyes a second, mentally berating herself for sampling the perfume earlier.

Dear God, he’ll find me cowering like a child, choking on my own stifled scream, in a cold sweat, all dignity lost in the desperate struggle to stay alive.

But then he turned away from her and kept moving.

Alexis's pent-up breath stuttered from her in a tattoo of fear, and she inhaled with a shudder.

She was about to turn when a hand reached over the shelves and grabbed her by her ponytail and yanked her back.

“Gotcha!”

Alexis yelped and reached upwards as she tried to pry his hand from her hair. Quickly, she pulled her knife and sliced off the ponytail to free herself from his grasp. Finally free, she staggered to her feet and darted down the long aisle.

"Get her!" Ivan demanded, and one of the men darted through the aisle next to her.

“Little bunny, where you hopping off to?” His tone was mocking, completely unconcerned.

Alexis came to a halt as one of Ivan’s men blocked her path, she drew her gun.

“You’re trapped,” he taunted.

Alexis pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed through his femoral artery and lodged into the bone. Blood spurted in a wide arch as he cried out and clutched his thigh. He fell on his side at Alexis’s feet.

“What the fuck was that?” Ivan hollered from across the store.

“She fucking shot me!” He screamed as he rolled back and forth on the floor. “She fucking shot me, Ivan! Oh God. It fucking hurts.”

Alexis sidestepped him. Her hands shook and she nearly dropped the gun. Blood spread out on the linoleum tile.

The man looked up at her in agony, his eyes filled with childlike bewilderment. “Why’d you do that?” he sobbed. He reached out and grasped her ankle. “Help me.”

“Go to hell.” Alexis yanked her foot from his grasp. His hand was slick with blood and she easily kicked it away.

"Ivan!" The man mustered the strength to call out. "I'm fucking bleeding to death! Help me!" His wails gradually faded to soft moans.

“Hey. Bitch! Stop with this shit and put your weapon down!” One shouted behind her. “You’re outnumbered and outgunned! You’ve got one shot here!” 

Alexis refused.

“Alright...don’t say we didn’t give you a chance!”

"I'm not going back," she muttered. Her finger tightened on the trigger and she placed the gun to her head and squeezed her eyes shut. "Rick, forgive me."

Glenn’s eyes widen and jumped to his feet in a matter of seconds and shouted, "Don't do it!"

She pulled the trigger.

Click

Nothing.

She exhaled explosively.

Roughly, one man corralled her arms and pinned them to her sides, squeezing her in a tight hug. “I thought I smelled a woman,” he moaned, rubbing his face in her hair, next to her ear.

Ivan grabbed Alexis by the chin and yanked her head up, a smirk on his face. “Well lookit here. You've just made my job, Victor’s job a whole lot easier.”

“She tried to off herself,” her captor laughed.

“Well, we can’t have that now can we?” Ivan pried the knife from her hand and rubbed the tip down her cheek, “It’s no fun fucking a dead woman.”

Alexis spit in his face. “You can go to hell you piece of shit!”

Ivan’s response was swift and brutal.

“Bitch.” He growled and slapped her hard across the face. Her head snapped sharply to the side.

One of the men grabbed Glenn by the shoulder and dragged him toward the front. A heavy blow sent him to his knees, and a foot blasted the air from his lungs.

“You leave him be,” Alexis shouted, then bit down hard on her captive’s arm.

“You want to hurt me, bitch?” he asked, then spun her around and punched her in the gut. Alexis clutched her abdomen and collapsed to the floor, the wind knocked from her.

As she struggled to pull in a breath, he flipped her over, knelt on her hands, and ground her face into the floor so hard she couldn’t breathe. Her chest burned. He did it three times, always stopping right before she passed out.

The corner of Ivan’s mouth lifted as he cocked his head slightly. “I gotta hand it to you, a lot tougher than I remember.”

Ivan stood in front of her, staring down into her eyes. He seemed taller, more intimidating than she’d ever remembered. She lowered her shoulders, his posture seeming to demand that she do. 

“I warned you what would happen if you ran from me.” Ivan said threateningly.

Alexis struggled to her feet. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t help it. The shit you bastards put me through. You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

He threaded his fingers into her hair, gripping it by the roots to pull her an inch closer. She whimpered at the small pain. Her hands found his chest, the leverage holding her up as her knees weakened slightly. The heat of his skin nearly burned hers. He leaned in so she could feel his breath in her hair, against her neck.

“Kneel.” The venom in his voice was now replaced with a dangerous determination that prickled under her skin. 

She winced, the fight stirring in her anew. “No.”

“What?” Challenge laced his question.

“No,” She snapped, helpless and frustrated all over again. Desperate, she pinched the skin on his neck, pulled his hair, and struggled from his grasp on her hair in an attempt to free herself.

“Holy shit, she’s a fighter!” One man exclaimed, obviously pleased. “My kinda woman. That’s right, sugar! Make him work for it, baby!”

Ivan’s face turned dark with rage. He clamped a hand down on her throat. His hand tightened as she clawed uselessly at it.

“Let her go,” Glenn shouted, fighting with renewed vigor to get away. “Let her go!”

“Shut up,” Said one of the thugs holding him, “Your time will come soon enough.”

He finally released her throat, but her relief was interrupted by a blow to her stomach-her breath whooshed out of her, and the pain shocked her as much as it hurt-and once in the jaw. 

“Kneel or the Asian boy dies.”

She passed by terror, arrived at hysteria, and started to giggle. He was going to kill Glenn, maybe even her, but she couldn’t stop. Giggles became laughter and she rolled onto her back.

“He’s Korean you dumbass.”

His free hand shot out and clamped a hand over her mouth. He turned her face back so she was looking at him, her lips mashed into her teeth. He ground his hand down harder. She tasted salt.

“Bitch!” he screamed, spraying her with spit. Then his face changed again. All life was gone. He jumped to his feet in a matter of seconds.

Ivan turned to Glenn and drew his gun. 

The two men grabbed Glenn and made him kneel in front of Ivan.

"I have a better idea," Ivan said threateningly. "You have ten seconds to kneel. If you do not kneel within that period of time, I will kill this boy. One. Two.”

“No,” Alexis cried, trying to deny the unfairness of it all. “Ivan, please. Please!”

Ivan continued counting down.

Glenn squeezed his eyes shut.

Her eyes fell shut. She exhaled sharply, already feeling stripped by his words. She wanted to cry, but she remembered his threat. Sometimes I hate being a decent person. She thought.

"Eight. Nine."

"Fine!" Alexis shouted. "Fine! I’ll kneel!”

With the unspoken command, she lowered, resting shaky hands on her knees.

Ivan glanced at Alexis and smirked. “Ten,” he said. “Too late.”

“But I kneeled,” Alexis said. “I kneeled within the ten seconds.”

“Did I say ten?” Ivan growled. “Sorry, I’m dyslexic. What I meant to say was five.”

Alexis squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the gunshot that would end Glenn’s life, grateful at least that she wouldn’t be able to see it. But instead of a gunshot, a grenade explosion sounded from in front of the store.

“What was that?” One of the men panicked.

“Don’t just stand there you idiot, go check it out!” Ivan barked, gesturing to the front of the store. 

One of the men raced to the front of the store but as he glanced out the front window and bullet crashed through the glass hitting him straight in the head.

Rick grabbed the tactical knob to the bolt handle and pulled back, reloading for his next shot. He cocked his head to one side, shut one eye and put the other behind the rifle scope. He took a deep breath and exhaled out slowly.   
Alexis tried to dart past him, but Ivan grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back so fast and so painfully she thought a piece of her scalp would tear off. Her heart slammed against her rib cage, and blood roared in her head.  
He shot her a chilling look, his lips curled into a snarl. “You better tell me now if there are others with you or so help me I will shoot your friend here.” 

“You’d kill him either way.” 

He exhaled harshly and dragged her to the front of the store, Glenn in tow with two of his captors.

Gunshots cracked, one right after the other, as fast as the men could squeeze them off, and the windows imploded. Sheets of gummy safety glass crashed onto the floor, spilling over Alexis and Glenn, and things split and shattered farther back in the store as slugs found stopping points.  
Risking a bullet in the face, Alexis sat up, shaking off cascades of gummy-prickly glass, and looked out through the window frame. She saw Rick on the roof across the street, thirty feet away.  
Move, move, move.

A small fragment of glass lay on the floor, across from her, beside Ivan. She lunged for the broken piece of glass and slashed the back of his leg causing him to cry out.

Alexis stumbled to her feet and shouted, "Glenn, run!"

"Go get that bitch, and bring her ass to me!" Ivan used his gun to indicate the direction Alexis had fled.

As one of the men jumped in front of her and Glenn, blocking their chance of escape, Alexis jabbed and drove the glass up through the man's larynx.

The two hobbled to the back of the store, and Alexis came to a halt and reached for their packs and discarded weapons from earlier.

The flap doors flew open to the warehouse and Glenn grabbed the chain to the shutter door.  
Needing to make haste before the others caught up to them, Alexis grabbed the chain to assist Glenn but winced when a pain shot through her right side.

She pressed a hand to the source of the pain but pulled it away once she felt something wet seeping through her clothes. She brought her hand up to her face to examine the wet substance. Blood trickled down her hand and realized she'd just been shot.

"Shit," She hissed. With shaky hands she lifted her shirt to inspect the severity of the wound. To her luck, the bullet didn't inflict any major damage but managed to graze her.

“Were you shot?” Glenn asked.

“I’m fine. Keep moving.” Gritting her teeth, she fought through the pain and pulled the seemingly endless chain opening the shutter door.

She draped Glenn's arm over her shoulder and glanced around. “We need to get where Rick is. I don’t see Daryl around anywhere, do you?”

"No,” he replied. "Walkers will be drawn to the gunshots. They'll be heading our way soon. We need to leave."

Footsteps were approaching behind them quickly and Alexis and Glenn took that as their cue to leave.

As they neared the end of the alley four walkers turned the corner.

“Oh, shit. Shit.” Alexis panicked.

They turned around but more walkers were coming from the other side.

Glenn lifted his gun and shot the four walkers in front of them.

In moments, the men were in danger of being engulfed by the mass running at them.  
The men backpedaled and started shooting into the crowd. Bodies erupted in bloody explosions where the bullets found their marks. Some of the walkers fell, and some continued forward in spite of their wounds. The two men fell as the hoard overwhelmed them.   
Screams followed. Not the wild screams of the infected, but the terrorized screams of the dying. Gunfire died away or faded into the distance.

The walkers rolled over the men without slowing down. As a reward for their victory, many of them feasted on the fallen bodies of the men, who had been either too brave to flee or too slow to get away.

“Where’s Ivan?” Alexis scanned the area. 

“It doesn’t matter now,” Glenn said. “We need to leave.” 

“It matters to me,” she shouted. “He could still be alive dammit.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Glenn reassured. “But right now we need to leave or we’re going to die.” 

“Glenn, Alexis, under the cars!" Rick’s voice broke through the gunfire.

Alexis and Glenn parted ways and dropped flat to the pavement. Counting on the obstructing pumps at the first island to mask any movement close to the ground, she crawled on her belly under the car. The walkers didn’t cry out, didn’t pick up their pace. They hadn’t seen them. From their hiding place, they watched them approach.

The undercarriage weighed on her back, and her chest barely had room to expand to accommodate her own shallow, cautious, open-mouth inhalations. The hammering of her compressed heart against her breastbone echoed tympanically within her, and it seemed to fill the claustrophobic confines of her hiding place to such an extent that the walkers was certain to hear.

The blacktop was cold against her thighs, belly, and breasts. It leached the body heat out of her through her jeans and long sleeve plaid shirt, and she began to shiver. She turned her head to follow them as they went around, but to her dismay a few were slowing down beside the car. 

The smell of rotting flesh underlying the hot-copper stench of fresh blood. Her gunshot wound. 

With trembling hands, she reached for her machete in front of her and rolled onto her back. She cut the line in the undercarriage and doused herself in petrol. 

Their tread swiftly faded, cloaked by the fierce pounding of her heart. She exhaled explosively with relief. 

She crawled out from under the car and rose into a crouch. Her first inclination was to remain in that narrow haven between the blacktop and the undercarriage, wait until there came a long silence that ceased to seem like the stillness of a crouched predator. But she didn’t know what had happened to Rick, Glenn, or Daryl. Any of them—all of them—might be alive, grievously wounded but drawing breath.

It seemed madness to take this risk when safety was assured simply by her staying put. But personal safety at the expense of others was cowardice, and cowardice was a right only of small children who lacked the strength and experience to defend themselves. She couldn’t simply retreat into the defensive detachment of her abuse. Doing so would mean the end of all self-respect. Slow-motion suicide. It’s not possible to retreat into a bottomless pit—one can only plunge.

Emboldened, she got to her feet, grabbed her machete, crossed to the inner service island, and stepped between the pumps. She glanced back, but Ivan was nowhere to be seen. 

Focused on making sure not to draw the walkers in her direction, she barely noticed the large body lunging at her.

Her ankle twisted as she sidestepped and her foot came down on some loose gravel. She hit the pavement hard, biting her tongue as her chin connected and scraping her hands on the rough pavement.

As she struggled to get up, a hand grabbed her ankle and began to drag her back. She clawed at the pavement while trying to yank her leg free.

For a moment she was let go and got to her knees, ready to run. Then a large hand slapped over her mouth and an arm circled around her rib cage, lifting her up and slamming her back against a solid torso. The hand over her mouth pressed her head into a shoulder while the arm squeezed the air out of her chest.

He began to move backward. Her heels dragged on the pavement. She bit the hand covering her mouth and kicked back with her legs. Heard a grunt. She jammed elbows in wherever she could, slammed up into what she thought was a chin. She was shoved so hard she sprawled and landed on the hard edge of the curb, hitting her temple. It hurt like hell, but she rolled onto her back.

As Ivan reached for her, she managed to land a kick in his stomach. He groaned but kept trying to grab her. She rolled from side to side, punching at his arms and yelling, “Don’t touch me!”

“Shut up you little bitch,”

Still on the ground, she braced with her elbows and kicked him hard in the groin. Doubled over, he stumbled backward, groaning and gasping for air, then fell to his knees.

Alexis lunged for her machete but Ivan reached her before she could bring the machete up and turn. He squeezed her wrist, but she held tight to the blade. It waved wildly around as they fought over it. Ivan punched her in the gut and Alexis doubled over; his other hand still held her wrist in a vice-like grip. She sucked in a painful breath.

Hate gave her strength. Ivan snarled as he manhandled her, flinging her against the car. Alexis kicked and managed to tangle her feet in his. They fell, tumbling over each other, across the hood and down to the pavement. And still she gripped the machete.

Her head bumped against the curb at the bottom of the stairs, and Ivan landed hard on top of her. They both panted as they struggled to recover.

"I'm gonna enjoy the fuck out of fucking you," Ivan growled in her face. Holding her down with his body, he pinned her arms over her head and banged her hands against the floor. With steel fingers, Ivan pried the knife from her hands and tossed it away. It skittered across the pavement and bumped up against the tire and under the car.

Alexis arched her neck and eyed the weapon.

Ivan pulled her to her feet and backhanded her. She stumbled backward and landed hard on the pavement.

Gasping, eyes watering, she crawled on her hands and knees toward the machete in attempts to retrieve it.

Ivan raised his right leg and delivered a sharp kick to her side, extracting a pained cry from her.

“Y’know. It’s okay to give up.” 

Almost there!

Ivan kicked her several times and pinned her to the ground, not knowing the machete is within her reach. He threaded his fingers into her hair, gripping it by the roots and pulled her head back. She whimpered at the pain, but she was able to hitch a few inches closer to the knife.

He slid a hand under her tank top, palming her breast, plumping it in his hand.

“Tell me you like it,” he urged. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“No.” 

She heaved again, and now the knife was just six inches beyond her grasping fingertips.

“I wonder how Kate is. She’s so calm and self-possessed, isn’t she? I wonder what it would take for a woman like her to lose control.”

Her chest tightened.

The idea of his hands anywhere on Kate, or of her feeling one second of the terror she felt in that hell, tore at her insides.

As he flipped her onto her back, Alexis grabbed a hold of the machete and screamed, “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” as she sank it into the front of his head. It made the strangest sound, a wet thunk. For a few seconds his body stayed bent, then he fell over onto his back. He twitched a couple of times, then stilled.

Shaking with rage, she leaned over his body and yelled, “Take that, you sick fuck!”

Leaving a red trail in his black curls, blood rolled down the side of his head, hit the dry ground with a plop, plop, plop, made a rapidly spreading pool, and stopped plopping.

She waited for him to stand up and hit her, but as the seconds turned to minutes her heart rate settled down and she was able to take a few deep breaths. The cut hadn’t split his head wide open or anything, but the black hair around the axe head—embedded halfway into his skull—was a glistening mass of scarlet, and some of the hair seemed to have gone into the cut. A fly landed and crawled around in the wound, then two more landed.

With her hands wrapped around the handle, she closed her eyes and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried a bit more force, and the sensation of flesh and bone resisting as they let go of their prize had her gagging. It had to be done fast. With her foot braced against the base of his neck, she shut her eyes tight, took a deep breath, and wrenched the machete out. She dropped it, bent over, and dry-heaved.

Once her stomach settled down, she knelt beside his body, on the opposite side of the blood. Glassy blue eyes stared up at the sky. His face had already paled and his mouth was slack.

With quick fingers she closed his eyelids—not out of respect for the dead but because she thought of all the times she’d had to force herself to look at them. Now, in a few seconds, she’d fixed it so she’d never have to see those eyes again.

Dehydrated, sweat-soaked, head pounding, and aching all over from the physical exertion, she got to her knees, hugging her trembling body with her arms as her mind repeated the words, He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

She tried to comprehend what she’d done. Her mind couldn’t grasp that he was really dead. Someone like him should have taken a silver bullet, a cross, and a stake through the heart to die.

I killed them. I’m a murderer. I’m just like them. Thou shall not kill. You’re going to hell. Thou shall not kill. You’re going to hell!

Alexis shuffled to her feet and lifted the machete in the air when she heard a crunch of glass beside her. 

“Alexis… sweetheart. Breathe. It’s just me, okay?”

Rick stood in front of her, hands held out in front of him defensively. 

She breathed through it until her body relaxed enough to let her speak. She found her voice again, now hoarse. “I killed him...I killed Ivan.”

“You did the right thing. You did what you had to do in order to survive.” Rick said quietly. 

“I’ve never killed anyone before. I mean...I’ve killed several walkers before, but I knew they weren’t like us. This man raped, whipped and beat me. So why do I feel so much guilt for someone who had so little value for human life?”

She dropped the machete and outstretched a shaky hand to Rick’s chest. Bringing herself closer to him physically was like pushing through a wall. All her instincts told her stay back where it was safe. He let her come to him, unhurried, his touch a whisper on her skin. Trembling from head to toe, he tenderly folds her into his arms. He caressed her slowly, carefully, up and down her back until she relaxed fully against him. 

He hushed her quietly while she broke down in his arms. This new violation compounded with the weight of the old until she thought she’d cried all the tears her body could produce. Through her sobs, he murmured reassurances. Promises of his love, that he’d always protect her and keep her safe, filled the air around us until she believed it, with every ounce of her soul.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

She found it.

After two weeks of searching, Michonne finally located Victor's hideout. Unfortunately, the farmhouse was heavily guarded by his men. But they couldn't wait any longer. It was time to strike and soon. The search for the Governor would have to be put off until Victor was no more.

Shouts from a distance broke her from her thoughts.

She crested a low hill, and Michonne squinted. A single person was fending off a pair of walkers. 

Michonne tapped her horse and urged him to go faster.

The walkers were getting closer to the man, she urged the horse to go even faster.

"Move," she barked and she drew her sword.

She swung the sword in a powerful backhand that took off the top of her skull. A fountain of blood exploded in the air. 

As the now dead walker crumpled, she dismounted and swung her arm down and clove another’s skull down through the eye socket. 

Sweating and breathing heavily, the unknown man shuffled to his feet and said, “Thanks.” 

Tall and lean, with pale blue eyes and a mop of sandy blond hair, he was dressed a simple black collared shirt rolled up at the sleeves and dark blue jeans. 

Michonne gave a curt nod and turned back to her horse, cleaning the blood off her sword as she went. 

“Wait. Please. Please help me.” He pleaded. “I know you don’t know me. Okay, I know that. But can you please help me get to this prison not far from here.” 

Michonne came to an abrupt stop and slowly turned around. Her hand tightened around her sword. 

The man swallowed the knot in his throat and said, “I-I’m looking for someone. I was told I could find her there.”

Michonne narrowed her eyes. “Who?”

“Her name is Alexis. She had blond hair with-”

She pressed the bloody tip of her sword underneath the man’s chin, lifting his gaze so they stared eye-to-eye. “Oh, shit. Shit. Okay.” He threw his hands up in front of himself in defense and backed away slowly. 

“What’s your business with her?”

“So it’s true. She’s alive.” His eyes widen and he took a step forward but suddenly stopped when Michonne pressed the tip hard enough to draw blood.

“Who are you?” Michonne questioned.

The man swallowed and said, "My name is William McKay and Alexis is my wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews please. I’m rather eager to know what you all thought of this chapter, especially now since it appears that William is alive! O.o


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You guys don't know how hard it has been to continue this story. I'm so into my original story that that's all I've been working on. Give me that motivation my wonderful readers! Keep me going!

Reviews, reviews, reviews!

Restoration: Chapter 17

In that odd first moment, Alexis noticed how much William had aged. They stared at each other as if under a spell. Then, William rushed to Alexis and took her in his arms. He was weeping. Tears welled up in her eyes, but a part of her stayed distant. His touch, familiar as it was, seemed strange to her now. She let him hold her but gave nothing in return. He didn't seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

"Michonne found him a few miles just outside the prison." Hershel said.

"And you let him in?" Rick said incredulously to Michonne.

"He had proof," she stated matter-of-factly.

Rick turned his attention back to Alexis, frowning with evident concern.

"You took everything away from her; passed her around to those men like she was a piece of meat. What more could you possibly take away from her?" Rick asked.

Victor was silent a moment, then said. "Everything she ever cared for. The only thing that gave her the will to survive in the first place."

"I knew it dammit. I knew you were alive." William pulled back from her, looked at her, and then pulled her close to him again.

Her whole body froze, panic taking over. Her focus blurred with the tears that threatened and tried to still the tremble that worked its way through her.

I wonder how Kate is. She's so calm and self-possessed, isn't she? I wonder what it would take for a woman like her to lose control.

She pushed away from him.

"What's wrong?"

She hesitated. "He has them, doesn't he?"

"Alex-"

"Doesn't he?" Her voice shook.

William swallowed the knot in his throat.

"Yes," he admitted.

"Oh my God." She touched her hand to her mouth. "He's gonna kill them. He's gonna kill my baby. Our little girl. Oh God. Oh God." The words came out in a rush, almost as fast as her mind was racing.

"I know this is a lot to take in, it is for me but-"

Alexis slapped him, hard, the sound slicing through the room. Her hand stung with the contact and her breath left her in uneven pants.

Shock registered on his face, but he hesitated only a second before taking a step toward her.

"Don't touch me!" she cried. "How could you? How could you just let Victor take them? How could you leave them?"

"It's a lot more complicated than you realize," he said. "If you calm down and let me explain-"

She could feel hot tears spilling down her cheeks, beyond her control.

"I can't take this…"

"Wait!"

The reality that William was tied to Victor, this horrible person who'd damn near ruined her for good, was more than she could bear. She turned without answering and left the room, escaping down a hallway that led to the outdoor courtyard.

As soon as she stepped outside, she was gasping for breath, but she didn't seem to be drawing any air. She was breathing too fast and too shallowly, in danger of hyperventilating.

"Alexis."

Rick walked toward her with arms opened wide.

Alexis went into them, and for a long time, he simply held her as she cried.

"He has my family. He has my baby, my little girl."

He just held her so tight it almost hurt. She sobbed into him, letting all the misery pour from her.

"We'll figure it out, okay?" he promised.

She needed that, for someone who loved her to promise her that everything was going to be all right. She wanted so badly to believe it.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

After two hours of solid crying and a glass and a half of the scotch she swept from the store shelves, the rage had dulled to a numb sort of hopelessness. Rick had held her and promised that they would get through it. But the more she tried to believe him, the less convinced of it he seemed. She paced the small cell, looking repeatedly at her gun as if she were holding back from launching into action at any moment.

"Alexis," Rick said softly.

"What?"

"You have the rest of us, and you have me. You know we're solid, and we will get through this. Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing he's upset you. I know how you get and worrying yourself into a nervous breakdown isn't going to help anyone. We need you."

"This shit-it's making me crazy. I can't just sit here and do nothing, Rick. We need to move, now."

"We will. Soon. I promise. But it's Victor we're up against. We can't just rush this. It takes time."

"I hate it when you use that cop talk." She muttered.

Rick shot her an apologetic look.

Daryl came through the door. "He's asking for you,"

Alexis nodded silently.

"Will you be alright with him on your own?" Rick asked, his hand resting on the small of her back.

She gave him a weak smile. "He's my husband, Rick. He wouldn't hurt me."

"Yeah,"

Alexis heard the sorrow in Rick's voice.

Her gaze fell. "Rick…"

"You don't have to say it," he hushed her.

"Yes, I do," she pressed, and she leaned in, her lips meeting his. When they separated, the words flowed as naturally as her breath. "I love you, Rick Grimes."

"I know," he said, gently sliding his arm around her waist. "I love you, too. I'll be here if you need anything."

"Thanks."

It was a couple of minutes before Alexis appeared at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed. She stared down at him, clearly debating what to do. Then, sighing, she approached reluctantly. Noticing everyone's attention, she said nothing to him; instead, she nodded toward the door. William followed her out. She led him to the library and closed the door behind them.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, before finally moving to the table in the center of the room.

"You're bleeding," William pointed out, concern swimming behind his eyes as he noticed a crimson stain forming through the fabric of her shirt.

"It's nothing," she said simply as she settled into a chair across from him.

"Well maybe I should look just to be sure," he said. "I have gauze and a suture kit in my bag."

Her body tensed with a different kind of fear. William would never look at her the same again. He would be horrified when he see the scars.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not? I mean it's not like I haven't seen what's underneath."

She twisted her fingers in her lap. "No, you haven't."

William rose from his seat. "Sweetheart, I need to make sure you're not bleeding out. If the wound is deep it may require suturing. And with an open wound, you could get an infection. Let me help, please."

He gave her an innocent but determined look that was hard to resist.

"Please?"

She pushed away from the table. "Fine."

"I'll be back in a minute," he promised, and headed back to the cellblocks.

As he walked away, she studied him, wondering if this was all just a dream. She was still trying to figure it out when he emerged with his pack.

"Okay, let's take a look at that wound." He motioned to the chairs.

She took a seat and leaned back with a sigh.

As William reached for her tentatively, she caught his hands between them.

"You have to promise me that you won't freak out, okay?"

He nodded and swallowed hard.

"Promise me, William."

"I promise."

She let go of William and dropped her hands to her sides. Slowly, he fingered the top button of her shirt. One by one, he released them.

Her body began to shake. She moved her arms to cover her midsection, but he caught her wrists, holding them tight to her sides.

His gaze lifted to hers, and she expected to see disgust or pity in them. Instead, she only saw love.

"You don't have to hide from me. This is you, Alexis, and I wouldn't change that for anything because I love and accept you...Every inch of you."

A wave of emotion rushed over her, sending tears prickling behind her eyes. Her arms cradled his head to her chest.

"Thank you...thank you…"

William drew her close to him as she whispered the words, and placed a chaste kiss to her forehead before closing his eyes, cherishing every moment.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

"Ow," Alexis winced as he dabbed at the wound.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I'm gonna need to put a few stitches in, is that okay?"

"Okay," she said weakly.

"I'll do my best not to hurt you," he said, preparing the suture materials.

She closed her eyes while he stitched up the wound. She winched again, and felt a hot tear run down her face.

"How did you manage to get shot?" He asked.

"Supply run," she answered, "We ran into a few problems."

"I can see that," he said quietly, thumbing a tender spot on her abdomen.

He took a deep breath and returned to his ministrations.

"How long have you been here?"

"A while," Alexis answered simply.

"They treat you okay? They haven't hurt you…"

Alexis chuckled softly. "No, no they've been very good to me. They're like family."

Silence hung in the air. No clicking, no words, only the faint sound of William's breathing.

"All done. This will help the cut heal faster, and if you're lucky, there won't be a scar."

"Damn, and here I was hoping to add it to the rest my collection," She joked nervously.

"They will dissolve in a week. If they don't, I'll pull them out."

"Thanks," she murmured as he as packed away the medical supplies.

Silence descended again.

"How's Aubrey? I mean...you know despite everything that has happened?" She asked as she buttoned up her shirt.

He fished a picture out of his bag and handed it to her.

"This was the last picture Kate took of her. She looks so much like you. She's beautiful, smart. And strong. God, she's so strong."

Tears quickly brimmed her eyes. "Good. I'm glad. I've missed her. There wasn't a day that passed I hadn't thought about her." she said. "Thank you. Thank you for taking such good care of her."

He smiled warmly. "It's really Kate who you should be thanking. She was there every day after disappeared. She practically raised her. Still is."

Alexis laughed a little. "Yeah, Aubrey was always the child she never had."

"And the baby?" He asked. "I see you hold her a lot, is she...?"

"No," She rushed. "Judith belongs to Rick. His wife passed away and I've sort of stepped in to help him with her and his son Carl."

"Oh," he said, relief washing over him. "I thought...maybe…"

Her expression hardened and he heard her struggling to keep her voice steady. "You thought what? That she was mine? That I was impregnated during my time there with Victor?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you Alexis. That was stupid of me for asking."

Alexis squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples to stave off the tension headache coming on. "No. No it's fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"But there is something I want to ask you," he said. "During the investigation they found traces of blood. Your blood."

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his beautiful blue eyes appraising her cautiously.

"It came back positive for pregnancy."

Her heart pounded. Her lips parted slightly as she struggled to take a full breath.

"Is there a baby, Alexis?"

Her head pounded. She would not cry.

"Is there a baby, Alexis?"

William wouldn't shut the fuck up.

"No."

"Was there a baby, Alexis?" His voice was gentle.

"Yes."

"Where's the baby now?"

"She…our baby. Died."

His hands fisted on the table and his jaw clenched tight, the muscles bulging.

"She just…I don't know. When I woke up, he had her. She was dead. I don't know where he took her, he wouldn't tell me."

When he finally looked up, his eyes were misted. He blinked and cast them down again quickly.

"How...How old was she?"

"A couple of months old. She was sick. I told him she needed a doctor. He refused."

"Did she have a name?"

"Our baby? Her name was Hope."

His gaze met her eyes, a tear spilling down his cheek.

"When I lost her, I wanted you to hold me. And when I was alone at night, I wanted you and I cried for you." When Alexis finished she blinked, seemingly unaware of the tears spilling down her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away, and neither did William. Instead, he took her in his arms, pulling her close. He hushed her quietly while she broke down in his arms.

"William. I'm sorry." He couldn't know how sorry she was.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis closed the door the library and placed a bottle of water in front of William.

He hesitated. "Alexis, the night after I called you I was late. I didn't even call when I was heading out like I usually did, and when I finally called on my way to the house four hours late and you didn't pick up, I just thought you were busy. When I arrived home..." He took a deep breath. "God, when I saw all your things lying beside the door, then the blood on the floor…I called your sister right away. After a few weeks I started drinking at home almost every night after work."

"But you hardly ever—"

"I did a lot of dumb things then, things I never would have done…."

She wondered what dumb things he was talking about, but he looked so awkward and red-faced she said, "Don't beat yourself up, you handled it better than I probably would have."

He shook his head.

"I had a feeling Victor was behind your disappearance. A few weeks after your abduction, they dismissed the case due to insufficient evidence. I was so angry; that sneering smile. I went after him in front of the steps of the courthouse, in front of the press, everyone.

Alexis lowered her gaze.

"Brett...he uh, he said he'd done everything in his power. Without the witness' testimonies and the evidence you'd gathered there was nothing they could pin him with."

Alexis snorted and rolled her eyes. "Did he now? I'd love to get my hands on that piece of shit."

"What?"

"Brett played a part in my abduction, William. That's how the case was able to be dismissed."

William's eyes widen. "What, no? No, Brett would never do something like that. He loved you. He was our best friend."

"Well he did," she said. "Victor stopped by his house that night I disappeared. They talked. He was next in line for my position and when I decided to handle Victor's case that put a damper on things."

William slumped in his chair. "That sonofabitch,"

"He stopped by a few times, flaunting his new position in my face. Laughing at my predicament."

"Did he...uh, did he-"

She lowered her gaze and said quietly, "I went through hell, William. Every day in that place was a struggle. Every day I waited, hoping someone would find me but help never came. But I held on...for the two of you."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

As William and Alexis walked into the cool night air, William revealed bits and pieces about what occurred during the time of her abduction.

"After a few months I knew I was relying on the buzz, so I quit. By then most people thought you were dead. I didn't feel like you were, but everyone was acting like you'd never be found and a lot of the time I was angry at you. I knew it was irrational, but in a way I blamed you. I never told you this, but I didn't like you doing those type of cases—that's why I usually called you after. You were so determined, headstrong, people can take that the wrong way."

"But that was my job, William."

"I know, and look, I had stuff I had to work out for myself. I went a little crazy."

She swallowed the knot in her throat.

"I went out with the girl you saw a couple of times at the front desk at the hospital, but I ended up talking about you and the case, so I knew I wasn't ready." he said. "Then Kate...We'd been drinking, it didn't mean anything. We were both so upset about you, and nobody else understood what we were feeling…."

Her heart fell a little.

"It's okay. Honest. We all did stuff through this that we regret, but I don't even want you to regret this one. Maybe it needed to happen or something. But it doesn't matter anymore."

"Yes, it does." he said. "I still care about you. Still want to be with you. You used to tell me how safe you felt with me." He gave her a sad smile.

"I did feel safe with you, but now no one can make me feel safe. I have to get there on my own."

He nodded. "I can understand that."

Silence descended again. After a moment, William spoke up.

"So how did you manage to escape?"

"There were two of us left at the time, me and this girl named Sarah. They normally kept us shackled, but one of the men forgot to lock Sarah back up. Victor and his crew were out, leaving one of his guys there to keep watch. I guess he got bored-unlocked the door and he...um…"

"You don't have to say it Alexis. It's okay."

"I tried to fight him off," she whispered. This time, she couldn't swallow away the tears that fell free down her face. Her limbs felt weak and heavy, weighed down by her past.

William's jaw clenched, and raked his hands through his hair. The momentary separation from his touch physically hurt, the places where their skin had met ached for his return. She needed the contact as an affirmation that this new knowledge wouldn't color how he felt about her. A sickness twisted insider her at the thought.

"Sarah, she was waking up. I called her for help, but...something was wrong. She was different." She said. "She attacked my captor and I managed to get away. Rick and the others, they saved me. I didn't know until later what had happened. This disease that brings the dead back to life."

"Victor didn't tell you?"

She shook her head.

"No," She answered. "No, he managed to keep that hidden rather well. You could imagine my surprise when I found out. I thought I had gone insane."

"You look pretty sane to me," William said with a small smile.

"Maybe to you," she paused. "But William...I'm not the same person you used to know. The person you fell in love with. I've done things. Horrible things."

"Like what?"

"I've killed people."

"I'm sure you had your reasons. I've done things myself I wasn't proud of either." he turned toward her. "The world as we knew it no longer exists, Alexis. Times are incredibly harsh; it changes people. Food, water, and medicine are all scarce. Survival of the fittest and only the strong survive. Some use their strength to take from the weak. To hurt them. Others use their strength to protect them."

"Leaving the smart to take from the strong,"

"Or there's that," he chuckled. "You may have done things that you thought were wrong, but you have to reconcile that with the good you've done. A person's life is not just one action. It's the sum of all he or she's done. Ideally, sure, you'd love to be proud of every moment that you've spent on this Earth. But, that's not the case for anyone. You just do the best you can under the circumstances you're in."

She exhaled slowly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"It frightens me, William. This new world. I've gone against everything I believed in. But what frightens me the most is that I'm starting to like it. Taking down these walkers, I feel exhilarated. Powerful." She let out a rueful laugh. "I'm turning into Victor."

"Unlike Victor, you have heart. You've always put the needs of others before your own. That's what I love about you, why I fell in love with you." He smiled softly and grasped her hand.

Her heart slammed in her chest. Shit. Shit. Shit. His words couldn't have hit any harder.

Slowly, she pulled her hand free from his grasp.

"What about you?" She asked. "How did you and Victor come about?"

"After the virus hit, I stayed close. I made a safe-zone not far from Linden. One morning, I sent two teams out to retrieve supplies. Both didn't come back." he said. "A few of the guys, including myself planned on heading out the next morning to search for them in case they ran into a few problems. During the course of the night, Victor and his men hit our camp hard. They took the women and children and the men who refused to follow him, they killed." She nodded as we went on. "He kept us locked in this small room. Tried hard to break us down. The weak eventually broke, and the strong ones...well we kept our wits. Or at least tried to anyway. He's pretty fucking eager to get you back."

"I know." Alexis said.

"He held a gun to Aubrey's head."

Alexis balled her fists.

"He was going to kill her. I didn't know what else to do. He's using them as leverage. Unless you hand yourself over in three days, he's going to kill them."

She swallowed the knot in her throat. "William, more than likely they're already-"

"Stop. They're not dead. Jesus, how could you even think that? He's given me his word."

"His word doesn't mean shit to me. Do you know how many times he's pulled that crap on me? Too many to fucking count. Yet, I was too damn naive and kept falling into the same trap."

"He promised me no harm would come to them. And he delivered."

"I'm not handing myself over William,"

"I'm not asking you to hand yourself over," he said. "I'm asking you to help me fight. He's got several men patrolling that place. I don't stand a chance there on my own. I need help."

Alexis sighed. "Adding me into the equation isn't going to make much of a difference against Victor and his men. If we're gonna be getting Aubrey and the other's out of that hell hole, we're gonna need a lot of muscle."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis sat on the floor in the darkness. Her back was against the wall. This had been the most emotionally exhausting day. William was back and he was alive. Victor had Aubrey and Kate in his possession. Down in the hateful silent dark.

"Hey,"

Rick's voice broke her from her thoughts. He greeted her with a weak smile. He was gorgeous in his tired worn-out black jeans and a simple white T-shirt. His hair was wayward and messy.

A tear slid down her face and she turned her head, immediately wiping it away.

"Hey,"

She took a breath, determined to get herself off the floor. She rose and brushed her hands against her jeans.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

"No," she rushed. "Please, don't leave. I…I don't want to be alone."

She suppressed the next wave of tears that threatened at the thought of not having him with her.

"Then I'm not going anywhere." He stepped into the room and took a seat on the bed, studying her intently.

The sound of his voice washed over her and she relaxed a little. She took a deep breath and wiped away the errant tears.

"Rick..."

"We can't do this, can we?" he said quietly.

She lowered her gaze.

"I know you, Alexis. I know your heart. You have a husband. And you have a daughter that you love very much. You won't give up easy."

"I have to go to be with him. And I don't know how I'm gonna do it without hurting you."

She swallowed over the tight prickle in her throat. Tears burned her eyes as she met his warm gaze. He rose from the bed and stroked her face reverently, tracing a path from her cheek to her chin. Before she could say anything more, he angled his lips over hers and took her mouth in a kiss. Soft and tender, the kiss quickly became heated.

She pulled away abruptly and said, "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep the tears at bay. "Please… don't ask me to stay with you, because if you do, I will. Please don't ask me to tell William about us, because I'll do that, too. Please don't ask me to give up my responsibilities or break up my family." She inhaled, gulping air like someone drowning. "I love you, and if you love me, too, then you just can't ask me to do these things. Because I don't trust myself enough to say no."

When she finished, Rick said nothing. Though he didn't want to admit it, he knew there was truth in what she had said. Breaking up her family would change everything; it would change her, and it scared him. But he wanted her to choose him. And yet he knew that she needed this from him, maybe more than anything she'd ever needed, and he exhaled, hoping that it might somehow make the words come easier.

"All right," he finally whispered.

Alexis began to cry then. Wrestling with the emotions raging through him, Rick pulled her close, feeling her collapse against him. As he breathed her in, images began to cycle through his mind—the sunlight striking her hair as she stepped from the prison; her natural grace as she moved through the garden; the still, hungry moment when their lips had first touched in the library he'd never known existed. Now it was coming to an end, and it was like he was watching the last flicker of light wink out in the darkness of an endless tunnel.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

When everyone began to settle outside the courtyard tables, she positioned herself on the opposite side. She had less than an hour to convince this small group of residents to fight alongside her.

The rumble of voices quieted, giving her their full attention.

She blew out a slow breath. "Over the course of my time here, I've come to know each and every one of you. Some of you more than others." She gave a brief glance to Rick. "We've fought alongside each other as a team, as a family. Walkers, ravagers...it's a never ending battle. Every day is a constant struggle for survival."

They nodded as she went on.

"But right now we're facing a bigger threat than just Walkers out there." she said. "I'm not talking about this Governor, I'm talking about Victor Hartley. This man was an ex-cop. He is a murderer, rapist and a sadist. Three years ago, he broke into my home and took me away from my family; beat, tortured and raped me almost every day. But I wasn't the only one under Victor's thrall. Several other women were also subjected to his abuse. Unfortunately, they did not survive. I escaped but it didn't take long for him to find me. Dominic Vasquez was one of his men, infiltrated this prison and lit a young man on fire to get to me and failed."

She took in a deep breath. "I need your help and I know that I am asking a lot, but Victor has my family; my little girl." She gestured to William. "He has his people, innocent people and children; locked away wondering when it's going to be their turn to die. No one deserves to suffer like that. No one."

"You're asking us to die," Sasha said.

Alexis sighed. "Yeah, I guess I am. But I'm tired of keeping my head down. I'm tired of being afraid and I'm tired of the people I love getting hurt because of me. But Victor Hartley? His men? They're monsters. And monsters, they need to be destroyed."

Silence stretched over several seconds, the truth of her accusation settling into that space with absolute certainty.

Slowly, each of them stood, announcing that they will join the fight against Victor.

I'm coming you two. Just hold on a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, it killed me to go that route with Rick and Alexis. Don't hate me. You'll eventually read what happens. :P Reviews my wonderful readers. Already working on the next chapter. Shit is gonna go down!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of my awesome reviewers. I was blown away at the amount of feedback from the previous chapter. You all are simply amazing! Keep the reviews coming! Gives me so much motivation. This chapter is super long. I had to break it down into two chapters because it hit over 20,000 words. There was just so much that needed to be added I couldn’t leave out. 
> 
> Rated M for mature.

Restoration: Chapter 18

Alexis stared out their cell door into the moonlit darkness. She replayed her conversation with Rick in her head, over and over, like a track on repeat that wouldn't stop no matter how much she wanted it to. She tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, but she couldn't forget the pain in his voice-an unsettling reminder that they'd loved each other. That he still loved her.

William stirred, momentarily pausing the incessant turning of her thoughts assaulting her brain. He turned to his side, curling his body alongside hers. She stilled, hoping she hadn't woken him with her restlessness. His bare arm wrapped around her, coaxing her closer until she could feel his heart beating against her, a slow steady rhythm.

"Love you," he murmured against her neck. Seconds later, his breathing returned to its regular sleeping pattern.

And that's when she knew. Rick was the only one she'd ever let in. Somehow he rooted himself in her soul, and no amount of William being here would change that.

Cringing, she found the strength to get on her feet. Her movements were far from spry as she passed his room and walked to the library. Her muscles were stiff, and a dull headache throbbed behind her eyes.

She pulled a pen and legal pad out of the top cabinet and settled into a chair. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. If things did manage to go south, she didn't want to leave this world without saying goodbye.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Rick's voice broke her from her thoughts.

She quickly flipped the legal pad over and offered him a tired smile.

"No," she dropped her pen down onto the table and rubbed her tired eyes. "To anxious to sleep."

"I was just doing my rounds and saw you come through here." He said quietly. "How are you holding up?"

Alexis drew a long, slow breath, and when she finally spoke, her voice sounded strangely distant. "I thought I'd be happy, ecstatic that he was here, alive, and that we were finally reunited after such a long time apart. And when he told me that he still loved me, I couldn't bring myself to say it back. His touch, his kisses, everything about it just feels wrong. I wanted to tell him that I've loved you for a while now. That I wanted to be with you." She turned toward him, pleading for him to understand. "I could hear myself saying the words, but then…"

Rick watched her expression close in on itself.

"I want to say those things to him. I wanted to say them more than anything, because they're true." She shook her head, as if trying to clear her mind of the remnants of a dream. "But as he started talking, my real life came flooding back, and all of a sudden I could hear myself saying something different. It was like there were two radios tuned to different stations, each one playing an alternate version. In the other version I heard myself saying that I didn't want William to know about any of this. And that I have family waiting for me. And that no matter what I said or how I tried to explain it to him, there would still be something inherently selfish about all of this."

"Alexis…"

She rose. "Don't, Rick. Please just don't…"

"Say it," he bit out. "If there's anything worth waiting for, I need to hear you tell me now."

Unshed tears burned her eyes. "Why would you wait for me?"

"Because I can't fucking help it," he snapped. He raked his hands through his already messy hair. "Jesus Christ, did you really think I'd just stop wanting you? Just like that? Flip a switch and everything would change? That I'd feel nothing?"

She squeezed her eyes closed, though she could feel his gaze burning into her. He cupped his hand behind her nape, bringing their faces so close. Her eyes flew open at his rough breath against her lips. Her heart pounded against her chest. His expression tightened, painted with all of the anger and frustration she'd spurred.

"I'll fix it, I promise."

"You can't fix this, Rick."

"Like hell, I can't. I'll do anything to get you back. Do you understand? Anything."

The tears burned and streamed down her cheeks. The asking in his intensely blue eyes took hold of her, enveloping everything. The pain behind them penetrated her soul. His expression softened, and he wiped away her tears, kissing the path they'd made down her face.

"If we can't make this work…" His grip on her tightened slightly. "I can't even think about it. God help me, I'll keep trying until I break you down. Say it. Baby, please."

The softly worded plea shredded her.

"Say it," he whispered, kissing her sweetly.

"I love you." The words came out in a sob. She swallowed down the urge to break down completely, strengthened by the pressure that lifted slightly by saying the words. "I love you so much."

He answered by lifting her up to rest on the edge of the table. "Then don't give up on us. Love me, damn it. Please, baby. Let me love you."

He slid his hands up her thighs, bunching the fabric of her long shirt as he went. He silenced any thoughts of refusing with another deeper kiss, devouring her mouth with hungry, urgent strokes. She linked her hands behind his neck, meeting his resolve.

"Jesus, I need you," he growled and pulled away. In one swift movement he yanked off his shirt and divested her of her panties.

"Rick, the library," she whispered, vaguely aware that they were breaking an unwritten rule of not fucking in the library.

"Don't give a shit. I need to be inside you more than I need to breathe right now. I don't care who knows it."

With one arm, he swept the contents of the table behind her to the floor. Everything landed with a loud crash. He pushed her back, crawled over her body, and wrapped her legs snuggly around his waist. He covered her with fevered kisses, sucking her neck until her skin prickled with heated desire. He divested her of William's T-shirt, revealing her bare chest. His eyes darkened. He took her nipple in his mouth, circling the tender tip with the pad of his tongue and repeating the motion on the other.

"I thought I'd lose my mind seeing you walk away from me last night."

"I didn't want to leave you, Rick."

"I couldn't sleep from wanting you so badly."

She whimpered, desire thick in her veins. She shifted anxiously beneath him, desperate for more contact. She scrambled for his belt, unfastened it, and pushed down his jeans to free his cock. Frantic for him, she lifted her hips, meeting him as he shafted easily into her. He ground his hips, staking his claim inside her as she stretched around him. He filled her so completely. His ragged breathing matched her own.

No one had ever made her feel this way, and no one ever would.

He took her mouth, his tongue seeking hers with deep velvet strokes until she could scarcely breathe. She moaned as he pulled back and then plunged deeper.

"Say it again." The command left his lips in a strangled groan.

He gripped her hip and thrust again, so deep.

"I love you, Rick." She sobbed from the pleasure of it. "Oh God, you feel so good. It's so good."

As if something invisible snapped, the thin veneer of control slipped from his features. No longer could she make out the familiar lines of restraint on his face. Only his intense animal need to possess her. He pumped into her rapidly. The friction of his fierce movements made her wild. She grasped at anything—his hair, shoulders, the edge of the desk. Anything to ground her when she slipped perilously into oblivion.

He took her hands in his own and held them tight above her head, firmly enough that she couldn't escape. Her breasts jutted out, tantalized by the soft hairs of his chest. She moaned and cried out unintelligible things. She'd lost her mind in the pleasure.

Their bodies collided over each other's, slick and taut with the tension coiled tight within each of them. The slow burn of her desire was raging now, the fire taking over as she clenched helplessly around him. His hips slammed mercilessly against her, her body anchored there and by his mouth where he kissed her. Passionate bruising kisses that she fully met like a person who'd been starved of them.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Alexis. Come, baby. I can't stop."

His words spurred her right into her orgasm. She let out an intoxicated cry, her fingers threading tightly with his. His eyes never left her as he took his pleasure, the cords of his muscles strung so tight. The taut knots of his abdomen clenched once more before a spasm rocked his powerful frame.

Her body hummed. Her chest expanded with warmth, and she inhaled his scent, basking in their sudden and fierce closeness. Love—a heady, pulsing, possessing wave of love—held her in its clutches. Everything that she'd been trying to forget and subdue when he was near came rushing in, overtaking her senses. Forehead to forehead, they caught their breath between slow, passionate kisses.

He thickened inside of her, impossibly ready for her again. She tightened in response, overwhelmed by how much she wanted him again already. She wanted to gorge herself on everything she'd been missing for so long.

Then reality slowly resurfaced. This had been amazing. Heart-wrenching, toe-curling, amazing sex, but it didn't solve things. She pressed her hands on his chest gently.

"Let me clean up."

He pulled out of her. She bit her lip, suppressing a whimper at the loss. With his help, she slid off the table and collected herself enough to escape into the bathroom down the hall. She shut the curtain and cleaned herself up. How would they get through this now?

Before she could begin to think about it, he quietly called her name. She pulled herself together quickly and met him at the doorway.

"Everything okay?"

"Sure." She pushed by nervously. "I'll let you get some sleep, I guess."

She'd barely passed him when he tugged her close. "What if I don't want to let you go yet?"

She avoided his eyes, unable to keep from relaxing into the warmth of his body.

"Come to my room." He paused, penetrating her with his gaze.

She contemplated a response. He'd just stripped her down emotionally and called her bluff on this whole breakup. What else could she say to keep him away that he would possibly believe or accept at this point? He was the definition of undeterred.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

His eyes widened slightly. "We're back to this?"

She sighed inwardly. They were so far from being back to normal. She was no closer to being able to tell William everything he didn't know.

"You're killing me with this shit, Alexis. After what we just did, you won't come back with me?"

She tried to weigh her options, the possibilities, and all the things that could possibly go wrong. In the middle of this trying thought process, Rick kissed her. She kissed him back, twisting the fabric of his T-shirt into a fist as she pulled him even closer. Everything melted away as it so blissfully had earlier.

"I'm going to make another round, then I'll meet you in the room, okay?"

She nodded without thinking, drunk on the taste of him once more.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

She woke up abruptly, disoriented until she recognized the flaking paint on the ceiling. Rick lay on his stomach next to her, snoring quietly into the pillow. His body was soft and relaxed, a different picture from the muscle-bound animal who had quite recently blown her mind. She must have dozed off while he made his rounds. He hadn't bothered to wake her and send her on her way.

Still, she couldn't be here when he woke up. She was completely blissed out, but the idea of facing the walk of shame in the daylight hours sobered her into action.

She slid quietly out of the bed and dressed before she stopped at the playpen. She took in Judith a minute longer, then left Rick's room without a sound. As soon as she passed the partition, William was behind her.

He wrapped his arms around her, his body curving behind hers. "I've been looking for you." he murmured, pressing a warm kiss to her neck.

She hugged her arms over his. She was going to have to lie. The thought of telling William where she'd been struck her as utterly impossible. She needed to fix this. Somehow, she needed to fix everything, yet underneath that thought lurked a persistent voice, whispering the question: Do you know what you've done?

Yes. But I love him, another voice answered.

"So I've been thinking, maybe once this is all over we could leave Georgia and head over to Washington. I heard there's a safe zone down there."

Washington? Leave?

She turned in his arms until she faced him.

"William...I don't want to leave."

"What? I mean I figured after everything you went through with Victor this would be the last place you'd want to stay."

He loosened his hold and she slipped away, throwing on her clothes from the previous night.

"This is my home. These people, they're my friends. My family. I don't want to leave them. I can't." she said. "There's a place for you here, you know. All of you. It's safe here."

"For how long, Alexis? How long until someone barges through those gates and takes over this place?"

"That won't happen. Rick won't let that happen." Alexis placed right leg on the bed and strapped her holster to her thigh.

"Yeah, well I used to think that way to and now look where it's gotten me."

Alexis shook her head, already tired of listening to him. "Why are you doing this?

"Doing what?"

"This," she said. "You're trying to pick a fight."

"I'm not trying to pick a fight," he mumbled. "Just take some time and think about it."

"I don't need time to figure out what I already know. There's nothing you can say to change how I feel." she said. "Can we drop this for now?"

He sighed and nodded, accepting that they were agreeing to disagree for the moment.

"Everyone's meeting downstairs to go over the plan here in a bit, you should get ready."

With trembling hands, Alexis pushed past him. She hurried out and down the stairs. Her throat felt raw—nerves, she knew. Having Rick beside her was the only thing that kept her from breaking down. Her mind shifted from memories to plans to feelings to worries, one right after the other, a kaleidoscope that changed with every turn.

"Morning," Rick said.

"Morning," She mumbled.

They weren't touching, but they were close, inches apart.

"Everything okay?"

"Peachy," she answered with a sigh. "Just peachy."

Rick rummaged through his bag and handed her a rifle, their fingers brushing slightly.

"You seem to know your way around a gun now. You think can handle that?"

"Well, uh, yeah sure. Can't be any more different than the last one I used."

"Lift it up." Rick commanded.

She lifted up the rifle and pointed it toward a bare wall.

"Alright now, you're gonna wanna lean right into that stock, 'cause it's gonna kick a hell of a lot more than the rifle I gave you the other day."

"Okay."

"Go ahead and pull the bolt back. Grab it right there." He instructed, placing her hand on the bolt. "Just tug it."

She tugged it.

William's gaze went to Rick's hand on top of hers. His jaw tightened and the muscles in his neck strained.

"There you go." He said, then rummaged through his bag and pulled out a magazine. "This is a five round detachable mag, as soon you're done you're gonna want to get another in there quick."

"I got this." She assured.

Gradually people pulled up their chairs. She pushed down all the fears, silently refusing to let the events of the week derail her entire day. Despite everything, they had work to do, and she had to push on.

Rick dropped into the seat opposite of William. The air grew thick around her, filling the space between them. It crackled with their distaste for one another. The clarity she was grasping scattered when she caught William's stare. Rick shifted in his seat as William leveled a look so venomous, she wouldn't have been surprised to find them at each other's throats, literally, in a matter of seconds.

She hurried to speak and shift their attention to the matters at hand.

"Our intention is to strike Victor's camp before his set time. More of a fuck you kind of way. Tonight we end this. Despite the fact that we're attacking early, we need to be at the top of our game. Knowing Victor, he'll be expecting us so we can't afford any slip up's."

"We're attacking tonight? We're not going to be able to see the walkers." Chris, their resident Hawaiian shirt-wearing night watchman, spoke up.

Rick chimed in. "I know it's risky, but night will give us the upper advantage of not being spotted."

William shook his head. "He's got spotters all around. We'll be caught before we even step foot inside that house."

"How 'bout a distraction?" Daryl said.

"That could work," Alexis said. "It would draw their attention away long enough for us to slip by."

"Even then, it's not going to buy us enough time to get the other survivors out of those freight containers." William said.

"Then what do you propose we do, go in with guns blazing?" Alexis said.

"We'll figure something out," Rick reassured.

William leaned forward and handed Rick a layout of Victor's camp. "I wasn't able to get a good look at the camp, I'm just going off of memory. It's not much, but it's something."

Rick reached for the paper.

"The women and children are being held in these two freight containers," William pointed to the map. "Kate and Aubrey are being held in a separate location lactated inside of the house."

"What about Victor and the others?" Michonne asked.

"Our first priority are the survivors," Alexis said. "Once they're in our possession, Maggie and Tyreese will bring them back here. After that, it's all-out war on them."

Seeing the plan moving forward was a little scary. She was wandering into uncharted waters, but this was what they had to do. Sink or swim, and she was determined that they would survive.

The rest of the meeting went well as Rick divvied up tasks among everyone. In the process she began to feel more grounded than she had been. The tension rolling off William had eased, so maybe the same was true for him. Still, Rick sent her a few concerning looks. As always, he knew something was up, that she was off. A weary sigh left her. What she wouldn't give to turn back time.

The meeting ended and people began to disperse. She gathered her gear, preparing to return to her room and dive into her day. William's footsteps followed behind her.

He paused. "I love you,"

Alexis turned to him and flashed him a half smile. "I know,"

He stalked closer, careful steps that brought them face to face.

"You keep me at a distance, Alexis. Why?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, I'm sorry. You know, um-I'm sorry that I can't take care of you when my sister and our daughter are in the hands of a psychopath."

"It's about me taking care of you! It's about letting me in...So you don't have to be on top of everything all the time."

"But I do! That's part of who I am." She slapped her hands down to her sides. "Jesus, what else do you want from me, William? I've given you everything that I have. I've given you my heart, my body and soul."

"You say that, but I don't feel it. I just don't feel it." he said. "What do I have to do? Please, just tell me?"

"There's nothing you can do, William. There's nothing you can do because you're not him." The truth of the words struck her as she spoke them.

He hesitated. "What?"

This is going to hurt.

She took a breath and prepared herself for a fight.

"I'm in love with another man."

He stared at her in silence for a moment.

He shook his head, his eyes wide. "Another man? No. I-fucking no. Who the hell is he? Is it Rick?"

Seeing the answer in Alexis's eyes, he shouted, "No! I won't allow it. I love you. You can't leave me. I just got you back. You can't love another man. You're mine; you belong to me."

"Will-"

"This is why you don't want to leave. It's because of him, isn't it?" He said. "You weren't in bed when I woke this morning either, you went running to him, didn't you?"

He read her silence as an affirmation.

William let out a curt laugh. "And all this time I was worrying my ass off about you, and you were up here in a filthy prison banging a complete stranger."

Before she could consider a reply, he stormed out of the room.

"William!"

Alexis hurried out and down the stairs and grabbed William's arm, urging him away from the others.

"William, let's go talk outside."

He turned to her, his eyes colored with all the hurt she'd caused, compounded with the rage he'd focused onto Rick.

"It's just gratitude you feel for him," he scowled. "You don't love him. You think you do, but you don't."

"Alexis?" Rick said.

Alexis waved him back. "I got this."

Her heart was beating wildly as she scanned the cellblock. Everyone was watching.

He wrenched out of Alexis' grasp and took a threatening step toward Rick, prompting Rick to take one as well. They were a few feet apart staring each other down. Holy shit, this wasn't good.

"You're screwing my wife? My Wife?"

She took a tentative step forward, not entirely comfortable with physically coming between them right now. With all the emotions flying around, she didn't trust that she wouldn't get hurt in the fray. "William, what are you doing? Stop this."

"You should listen to her. I think it's best we discuss this outside. Away from the others."

William shook his head. "Nah, man. We're going to discuss this here."

"Did you really expect her to hold a candle to you?" Rick asked. "Wake up."

"No. God, just stop, both of you."

Rick took a careful step toward her, his voice softer. "You don't need this shit, Alexis. Say the word, and I'll have him out of here."

"Like hell you will." William shoved Rick then, his slightly shorter frame hitting the wall. Rick reacted immediately, throwing a punch that William narrowly avoided. The two men skirmished. They pushed and pulled until she was certain they'd tear each other apart if she stood idly by. She was desperate to make them stop.

"That's enough," she yelled.

Rick shoved William off, and for the moment he kept a distance, as they both heaved for air, eyes wild with fury.

"We don't have time for this, we just don't. Now is not the time for us to be tearing each other apart. We need to stick together."

Silence fell. No words, no fists. Neither man moved.

Alexis turned to face William. "I love him. The man saved my life. He not only kept me from dying, he gave me new reasons to be glad I'm alive. I will always love you. I know you're angry. You have every right to be, but please don't doubt that."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why the fuck did I have to find out this way?"

She bowed her head. "I didn't want to hurt you, William," she said, but it was too late for that. "We changed, and in your heart, I think you realized it, too. Somehow, even though we still love each other, we lost that magical bond that kept us together. I'll understand if you never want to talk to me again, just as I'll understand if you tell me that you hate me."

He took a step closer, leveling her with his eyes. His voice was low when he spoke again.

"You should have told me,"

He turned and left her without another word.

She closed her eyes and exhaled a shaky breath. The day was still young, but it was shaping up to be a long one.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis took a deep breath to calm her nerves. In less than an hour, she would be back at the place she feared the most. She didn't want to go back. She was scared shitless. She reassured herself Rick would be there alongside her if something should happen, but something in her gut told her otherwise.

Carefully, she inserted the letter into the envelope and slid it under Rick's pillow.

"If I asked you to stay here at the prison, would you?"

She slowly turned to face Rick and shook her head, sadness locking her jaw.

"I thought so," he mumbled.

"I need to be there for them. If things were different, if he didn't have them, maybe then I would consider staying behind."

He shook his head. "No, you wouldn't."

She shrugged. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Listen, about earlier, I was a jerk. I admit it."

"A complete asshole," She teased with a half smile.

A cocky grin curved his lips. "Fine, but you couldn't get me to take a single second of it back, because now I have you."

His blue-eyed gaze locked to hers as he stood in front of her, his stance wide and casual. He had her all right. As her anxiety slowly melted, she fought the impulse to kiss the smirk off his face. The man drove her wild, in more ways than one.

"What do you think? Any regrets?" he asked.

He trailed his fingertips lightly along her jaw, lowering his face to the side of hers. The soft kiss brushed against her cheek and filled the air between them with his scent. Her breath caught, trapping his essence in her lungs. She wanted to be immersed in it, bathed in that uniquely masculine aroma.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head. There were no words. No regrets. All the ups and downs, however painful, had been worth it. They'd made mistakes. They'd hurt each other, but somehow they'd come through it stronger. He knew her heart, and she knew his. She couldn't speak for the future, but she couldn't imagine it beside anyone but Rick.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

She opened her eyes. His serious expression softened into a smile that met his eyes. Rick's happiness meant everything to her. She wanted to hold onto it, bind it with her own, and stay that way as long as they could. Hopefully forever.

She closed her eyes, cherishing the brief moment between them. His lips met her forehead with a soft kiss.

"We should get moving,"

She looked up, "Okay, but there's something I have to do first. I'll catch up."

"Okay."

She headed back out, grabbing her bags on the way.

She walked down to Carl's room where she heard pages turning.

"Hey kiddo, watcha doin'?" She asked as she leaned into the doorway.

Carl shrugged. "Reading a comic,"

His eyes lighted on a black backpack, if only because it was solitary in its place on the floor. He tried to ignore it and focused on reading his comic.

"That's for you,"

His eyes widen in surprise. "That?" He pointed to the bag.

"I wanted to give it to you when I got back, but there was some things I needed to tend to first." Alexis said. "You should open it, but wait till I'm gone, okay?"

Carl felt a chill spread through his body at her words and he rolled off the bed.

"Are you saying that you could die?" he didn't wait for an answer, feeling panic flood his system as he registered the truth. "That's what you're saying, isn't it? That you'll die? That you're not coming back?"

She said nothing. He moved in and encircled her with his arms, squeezing in desperation. "I don't want you to do this. You can't do this, okay? Dad will figure some other way to save them, okay?"

"There is no other way."

"There's always another way—"

"No," she said, "there isn't."

He pushed away from her, feeling a swell of anger. "You think you're being noble, but you're really being selfish! This is the most selfish thing—" he broke off, his chest heaving.

"Carl…"

"You're going to hurt me! Don't you get that? Did you ever stop for one minute to think that I might not want you to die? Or how it would make me feel? No, because it's not about me! Or my dad! This is all about you—and how you'll feel!"

"Carl!"

"You should go. Just leave." he said. "I don't want to hear you try to explain why it's so important for you to die—"

"I'm not going to die."

"Yes, you are! And you know what you're doing is wrong…" His breaths were coming fast.

He didn't finish. Instead, slipped on his hat and stormed out of the room.

Alexis closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

"Hey,"

She turned her head to see Daryl standing behind her.

"It's time."

Nightfall came far too soon and half an hour after the sun at set, Alexis, Rick and the others were gathered downstairs and ready to depart. The one's staying behind to watch over the prison prepared to see them off.

Alexis hadn't been prepared for the tears that came when it was truly time to say goodbye. These people had been her family for nearly half a year and had become so much a part of her life that she didn't know what she would do without them.

Gradually, the mass of around them broke apart and Alexis did her best to dry her eyes.

"Promise me you'll take good care of her while I'm gone, okay?" she pleaded as she shouldered her pack and gave Judith yet another hug.

"I promise," Beth said. "We'll be here. Waiting."

Goodbyes finally coming to an end, the armed group walked through the steel door into the cool night air. The others wished them luck on their journey, waving at them as they pulled out of the prison, until they disappeared around the corner and were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter. Over 5000 words. :P Reviews, Reviews, Reviews. I’m so excited about this next chapter. It’s time to go to war!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all my reviewers/followers along with the people who favorited/kudoed Restoration. You guys don't know how much it means to me. I've worked day and night on this chapter for you all. It's super long just because a lot of you had requested it not to be broken into two chapters.

Restoration: Chapter 19

Alexis couldn't believe how much Victor's camp had expanded over the past few months.

Rectangular blocks of limestone the size of coffee tables bordered the house in a semicircle. Outside the ring of limestone, the terrain grew much more rugged. The gate itself was designed to roll on a track on the other side of the wall for opening and closing. It was covered from top to bottom in sheets of steel and hid the property just as effectively as the wall.

To the left of the shipping containers stood a wooden multi-story watchtower with only one watchmen inside.

She looked over the house. It didn't appear to have any windows or doors on the bottom floor. The only entrance was across a breezeway from the second floor.

Lowering the binoculars, she looked at Rick. "He's been busy,"

"There are lights on in the house," Daryl said.

"Solar power," William said.

As they continued to glance down at the compound, they heard voices behind them.

"Hey, flashlights out." Rick whispered urgently.

Alexis ducked behind the large oak tree as the two guards slowly passed by, both wearing camouflage fatigues and holding automatic rifles.

"Oh...I'm so fucking tired. We were up all night chasing this captive." The guard said.

"Oh, you were part of that? I heard about this."

"Yeah, this one chick, she would just not give up. I've never seen anyone with so much fuckin' energy. It took a couple of minutes to snuff everyone else and fucking three hours to hunt her ass down. We were about to give up when she started shooting at us. Stupid, she coulda got away. I had two other guys keep her busy. I took out my rifle, lined up her little head in the crosshairs, and pow. That was that."

"Damn. Maybe you shoulda kept her. Y'know, made her one of your little toys."

"No, no way. That girl - she'd bite my dick off."

As they passed by, Alexis' hands curled into such hard fists that her fingernails pressed painfully into her palms.

Rick scrambled around in the leaves and came up with a small, twig. He lobbed the twig towards the guard. It flew just behind his head and thumped into a tree. The guard whirled around, leveling his gun at the source of the sound. The other guard signaled him to check out the noise.

The man tore through the bushes looking for the source of the noise. Seizing the perfect opportunity to catch him off guard, Daryl quietly approached his target from behind. Taking his dominant arm he wrapped it around the neck of his opponent, his bicep pressed against one side of his neck and her forearm pressed against the other side he applied pressure to both sides of the neck by squeezing his forearm and bicep together, the same move he pulled on Alexis when they first met.

A few minutes passed and the last remaining guard started to become suspicious when his partner had yet to return. Following the same path as his partner, they patiently waited for him to drop his guard. The man crouched down to his partner and took his wrist and felt for a pulse.

As William stepped around the tree a twig under his foot snapped giving away his position. A shocked gasp escaped his lips. The man quickly stood and turned, leveling his rifle at him, before he could squeeze the trigger, Alexis whipped around and pressed the gun to the back to head.

"Don't even think about it, asshole." She said. "Drop it."

The man complied and slowly lowered the rifle to the ground and said, "You're those people, aren't you? Those people from the prison?"

"Shut up. Get on your knees. Hands behind your back." Rick barked and briefly glanced up at Daryl. "Zip tie him up."

"What do you want? What the fuck?"

"You wait here." Rick pointed to the other man who was starting to come to before regarding the other. "Now...the girl...is she alive?"

"What girl? I don't know no girl."

"No?" William made a peace sign with his fingers and brought them together so they were touching each other and aimed towards the man's throat, causing his pharynx to cave in, preventing the offender from breathing.

The man collapsed onto his side trying to regain his breath.

Alexis took the picture of Aubrey that William had given her the other night and held it directly in front of the man.

"Look at the picture. Look at it!" She commanded as she shined the light on the picture. "Have you seen this little girl?"

"I-I don't know."

Alexis frowned and turned to William. "Do it."

William clenched his fist and hit the guard hard on the right side of his belly.

"The nice thing about the liver is if you hit it just right, you get the vagus nerve, which tentacles out to the rest of your body. Your brain short-circuits, your body shuts down, and you feel, what's the word, terror?"

"Fuck!" He groaned.

Alexis sighed and handed William the picture and flashlight to hold.

She kicked the man onto his belly and straddled his thighs with hers. She drew her knife and grabbed the guard by the hair and yanked his head back, the blade pressed tightly against his throat.

"Listen to me carefully, because this is what you're gonna do." she said. "You're gonna look at this picture and you're gonna tell me where Victor is keeping my daughter. If not, I'm going to ram this knife through your throat and leave you for the walkers to eat alive. Do you fucking hear me?"

"She's alive." he said quickly.

"Where?" Rick asked.

"In the house. In the house."

"Where in the house?"

"Underground. Far end."

"What about Victor? Where is he?"

"I-I'm not sure."

Alexis pressed the man's face hard into the ground to muffle his screams as she rammed her knife into his thigh and twisted it. She then quickly removed her knife from his leg and pulled his head back and whispered in his ear, "I can do this all fucking night. Again, where is Victor?"

"He's somewhere in the compound," the man cried. "He moves around a lot. He never stays in one place for too long. You can verify it. Go ask him. Go on. He'll tell ya. I ain't lyin'"

Faster than they thought anyone could move, Alexis pulled the man's head back and sliced her blade across his throat. His eyes flew wide and she gave him a little shove. His head rolled off his shoulders into the grass, and his body gave a violent twitch and fell to the ground with a quiver, blood spurting from his neck.

"You crazy-You crazy fucking bitch! He told you what you wanted. I ain't telling you shit."

She turned to the man, her expression was impassive, cold even as she drew her Glock with the silencer attachment. "That's alright. I believe him."

She shot the man twice in the chest.

"Let them turn," Alexis muttered as stepped over the man's body.

The three men stood in shocked silence for a moment, finally William whispered to Rick as they watched her walk away. "I don't think it was a good idea for you to let her tag along."

Rick walked past him. "I figured you of all people would know just how stubborn she can be."

William grabbed Rick by the shoulder and turned him to face him.

"I'm serious, man. I knew she had killed people, hell, we all have. But she just murdered those men without batting an eye." he said.

Rick shrugged off William's large hand. "Men who murdered your people. They don't get to live."

"I understand that," William said. "But she's not just here for Kate and Aubrey. She's out for blood."

"Can you blame her?" Rick tilted his head to the side. "Victor and his men nearly killed her. When we found her she was barely clinging to life. They deserve what's coming to them and more."

Rick turned back to leave and William said, "She likes it, you know?" Rick stopped and but didn't turn around. "That other night in the library, that's what she told me. I didn't want to say anything at first. I saw the fear in her eyes; fear of what she's starting to become. She's a good person. She doesn't need that blood on her hands. If she keeps going down this path, it'll consume her. She won't be able to come back from that. If you love her the way I do, you'll get her to stop. Now."

Rick shook his head. "I do love her, but the plan is set. She comes."

He turned and walked away, ignoring William calling out his name one last time.

Daryl stepped beside William. "He's noticed. He's just having a hard time accepting it."

Without another word, Daryl walked past William and headed back toward Rick and Alexis.

On the ground one of the dead guard began to stir, deep breaths growing from deep within him.

William pulled up his pantleg, taking a long knife out from his boot. He crouched down in front of the Walker and stabbed the blade hard into his temple. He stood and released a heavy sigh before heading back to join the others.

Rick pressed the button on the side of the two-way as he scanned the compound. The one guard was still manning the front compound in the wooden multi-story watchtower.

"Chris, you have to hurry. Talk to me." Rick whispered.

"We're here," he breathed heavily on the two-way, "got held up by some walkers. We're ready when you are."

"Sasha, ready?" Rick asked.

"Breezeway is covered. Ready on your count." She replied.

Rick turned to Alexis and handed her a rifle with the attached silencer. "Alright, you're up."

Alexis gave a nod of affirmation and dropped to a knee and aimed her M24-A2. She cocked her head to one side, shut one eye and put the other behind the rifle scope. She moved the rifle around until she locked on her target.

"You got this," Rick assured her. "Just remember your breathing."

"Okay."

"On my count," Rick said to Sasha and Alexis. "One. Two. Three."

Alexis exhaled out slowly before pulling the trigger. The man fell from the guard tower.

"Michonne's group, get moving, go!" Rick quickly retrieved the rifle from Alexis.

Everything happened so fast. Michonne's group jumped over the side wall and quickly made their way to the shipping containers where the survivors were being held against their will. Using a crowbar, Chris managed to pry open the doors, releasing the captives.

Guards swarmed the breezeway, shouting commands to one another as Michonne's group led them to their freedom. As they raised their rifles, preparing to shoot down the survivors who were climbing over the wall, Sasha began taking them out one by one.

"We're up." Rick said, then pressed the button on the two-way while he ran. "Maggie, Tyreese, be ready. The others will be heading your way with the survivor's."

They moved in quickly and came to a stop at a wall. She revised her guess to twelve feet or so. The top edge of the cinder blocks was at the top of my head, but a smooth round limestone coping added another ten or twelve inches. Daryl reached over the top and ran his if hands across the dry, chalky surface, finding nothing at all to grip.

Rick looked at Daryl with a question on his face.

He pulled my arms down. "The wall's got to be a couple of feet thick. There's nothing to grab onto."

William stepped up to the wall and reached over with as little success as he'd had. Looking at Rick, Daryl shook his head. He leaned back against the wall and interlaced his fingers to form a stirrup. He looked at Alexis. "Ladies first. Put a foot in. Step on my shoulder if you need to, but don't kick me in the face."

Putting two hands on his shoulders and a foot in his hands, she gave Daryl a nod, and jumped while pushing up with her hands. As she reached the top of the wall, she stepped up to one of his shoulders and threw an arm over, twisting sideways to throw a leg up. To her surprise, she topped the wall and stopped there, draped like a sloth on a branch with one foot and one arm on each side and her face lying on the dusty limestone coping.

"Shit," William muttered. "I can't believe that worked."

"Your turn," Daryl said. "You're a big guy. Don't know if I can hold you."

"Guess we'll find out," William said as the two got into position.

Daryl boosted, William jumped, and then worked on pulling himself up into the same sloth-like position she'd adopted.

Alexis shifted her weight so that her feet started to slide over the wall and down inside the compound. It was slow at first, but as her clothes dragged across the chalky surface of the limestone, she quickly passed the point of no return. There was nothing to grab and no way to slow her descent. Any chance of landing safely was predetermined by her initial shift and the physics of friction.

Then she was falling, and a second later she grunted when the ground knocked the wind out of her. Everything felt suddenly stiff but nothing felt broken. She was on her back and rolled quickly onto her stomach and pushed herself up to her knees, pulling her weapon up to a firing position as she did so.

She looked up and caught the duffel bag as Rick tossed it to her down below.

Rick pulled Daryl up and the two turned to scan the darkness in the cedar.

Walkers were already being drawn toward the sound of gunfire.

Sliding sounds announced the guy's decision to join her, and a second later they grunted when the ground knocked the wind out of them.

Three guards made their way around to the side of the house to assist their friends against Michonne and the others. Alexis lifted her pistol and managed to shoot one down, the remaining two were gunned down by Rick and William.

Her head swam. The compound was chaos. The blur of frightened faces running from the danger. The noise. Screams and more shots. More commotion from outside and men's angry voices. Her lungs struggled for air, the effort to breathe taxed amidst the rising panic.

Rick put his hands on his shoulders.

"Alexis!"

She blinked, seeming to jar herself from whatever thoughts were buzzing through her head.

"We gotta move. Now!"

Alexis nodded and quickly followed.

A heavily vined trellis was anchored at right angles around the front corner of what Rick guessed was the garage. The flat roof of the garage appeared to have some sort of patio on it. That looked to him like a way in.

As quietly as they could, they crept through the bushes, trying their best to avoid thorny vines and prickly pears. Their appreciation for shoes was growing by leaps and bounds.

They crossed the yard quickly, in case someone decided to take a shot at them. But no bullets came. They arrived at the trellis and examined the vines. There were no thorns. Good. The wood framework looked strong enough to support their weight. Alexis's biggest worry would be that of getting shot when she topped the wall and made for the doors that she presumed were on the other side of the patio.

Glancing left and then right, they figured they had enough space to get to the top of the trellis before they caught too much attention from the trigger happy sociopaths on her side of the house. So they climbed. William was halfway up when he felt himself being pulled down by a turned guard. He kicked at him with his free foot while he struggled to get the walker off of him.

Daryl jumped down from the trellis and pulled out an arrow. He grabbed the walker and jammed it into and out of his eye in one rapid motion.

When Alexis reached the top, she peeked over. She saw patio furniture and big potted plants. On the wall of the house, there were two sets of French doors and a couple of large windows. There were no blinds or curtains on the windows, and she was able to see into the room beyond. Not a single thing moved.

With a few quick heaves, she threw her legs up over the edge of the wall and got her feet planted.

They bounded lightly across the patio and came to a stop, Rick's hand on a doorknob, peeking into the windows. Still only furniture and fixtures in the room. Nothing moved. He turned the knob.

Locked!

Damn.

They hurried over and checked the other doors. Locked as well. To break the glass would be a mistake. The sound would alert Victor and his men. They couldn't have that.

Checking further, both windows were locked as well.

Hmm.

Quietly making their way over to the edge of the patio that overlooked the front of the garage, Rick stealthily peeked around the corner of the wall and quickly pulled his head back. No guard's eyes on the front lawn spotted him, but neither did he see anything that looked like an alternative way to get into the house.

Across the patio again, Rick peeked around the back wall on the side of the house and saw something that might work. It wouldn't be easy, but it was their best chance of getting into the house quietly.

A sloped roof extended out from the back side of the house and the eaves overhead provided a path to a smaller patio further down on the back of the house.

As Alexis jumped up onto the wall, her thoughts went, of course, to a hundred movies she'd seen in which the hero was running across a tile roof, only to have the tiles slip loose before sending him on a perilous skid to the edge of the roof.

Perhaps the guys who built this house had seen the same movies, learned a lesson, and had done a good job gluing these down.

She tested the stability of the first roof tile as she very, very slowly put her weight on it.

It held.

Away they went, slowly, so slowly, taking great care to check their footing with each forward step. Before they knew it, they'd uneventfully arrived at the other patio. They hopped down to the concrete floor and made no sound at all beyond that of their soled feet slapping the cement.

A quick, deep breath and a quick look around were all they afforded themselves before they checked the glass door. It was open. They found themselves in what appeared to be the master bedroom. It was decorated in a rustic Mediterranean style to match the house's exterior. Lightly closing the glass door behind them, they listened, and heard several voices downstairs.

On the dark wooden floor, they crossed the room noiselessly. The bedroom door opened with the slightest of creaks and Rick looked out into a hallway that opened at the end to the large sitting room they'd seen from the patio. Alexis's heartbeat pounded its drum and her breathing shouted in her ears. She was more on edge that he had been in days. Not just on edge, she thought. Face it, you're scared shitless.

She circled the bed to the accordian-style vinyl door, which hung from an overhead track.

When she pulled the folding door aside, it compressed into pleats that stacked to the left, and in the closet was a dead man.

Shock threw Alexis back against the bed. The mattress caught her behind the knees. She almost fell backward, kept her balance, but dropped the knife.

The rear of the closet appeared to have been retrofitted with welded steel plates fixed to the vehicle frame for added strength. Two ringbolts, widely separated and high-set, were welded to the steel. Wrists manacled to the ringbolts, the dead man hung with his arms spread in cruciform. His feet were together like the feet of Christ on the cross—not nailed, however, but shackled to another ringbolt in the closet floor.

He was young—seventeen, eighteen, surely not twenty. Clad in only a pair of white cotton briefs, his lean pale body was badly battered. His head didn't hang forward on his chest but was tipped to one side, and his left temple rested against the biceps of his raised left arm. He had thick curly black hair. His eyelids had been sewn tightly shut with green thread. With yellow thread, two buttons above his upper lip were secured to a pair of matching buttons just under his lower lip.

Daryl pulled shut the pleated-vinyl panel. Though flimsy, it moved as ponderously as a vault door. The magnetic latch clicked into place with a sound like snapping bone.

In all the textbooks she had ever read, no case study of sociopathic violence had ever contained a description of a crime sufficiently vivid to make her want to retreat to a corner and sit on the floor and pull her knees against her chest and hug herself. That was precisely what she did now—choosing the corner farthest from the closet.

"Alexis?" William stared down, concern swimming behind his eyes.

She had to get control of herself, quickly, starting with her manic breathing. She was gasping, sucking in great lungfuls, yet she couldn't seem to get enough air. The deeper and faster she inhaled, the dizzier she became. Her peripheral vision surrendered to an encroaching darkness until she seemed to be peering down a long black tunnel toward the closet at the far end.

She told herself that the young man in the closet had been dead when the killer had gone to work with the sewing kit. And if he'd not been dead, at least he'd been mercifully unconscious. Then she told herself not to think about it at all, because thinking about it only made the tunnel longer and narrower, made the bedroom more distant.

"Hey, hey. You guys hear that?" One guard said outside the door.

Alexis continued hugging herself, rocking back and forth, a wretched, rhythmic moaning escaping her.

"Alexis, you're gonna have to pull it together." Rick whispered urgently, "Alexis!"

Alexis continued moaning and would not be soothed.

"Get her quiet. Now!" Daryl hissed.

Rick immediately put his arms around Alexis and cradled her head on his shoulder. She started to calm.

"I don't hear shit." Another guard said.

"No, I heard something." he said. "I think it came from inside that room."

"Wait. Wait here," he told Alexis as he tried pulling away.

"No. No, don't leave me!" She cried, clutching his arm.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured. "I'm just going to reel him in and you're the bait."

Daryl pulled aside the vinyl panel and he and William slipped swiftly and quietly into the closet where the dead boy hung while Rick hid behind the bedroom door.

The guard pushed the door all the way open and went in fast, swinging the flashlight and the gun in that direction.

"Hey, Connor!" One yelled outside the door. "Stop screwing around, man. The others are out there fighting. Victor's gonna be pissed if we're in here messing around."

But, Connor didn't answer. He was closing in on his prey. He shined the light on Alexis, and she blinked from her hiding place between the bed and the wall. Connor was tall enough to see over the mattress to where she huddled against the wall. Her hands were buried in her hair, and she was clutching her head as if she felt it would explode.

"Who forgot to lock this damn bitch back up!" Connor called. He walked toward her and rounded the foot of the bed.

Rick jumped up behind him and clamped a hand over Connor's mouth to muffle his screaming as he rammed the knife into his back and quietly lowered him down onto the bed.

Daryl and William were sliding out from their hiding place in the closet as the other two guards entered the room. Daryl lifted his bow and shot one in the chest while William wrapped his arms around the last guard's neck, and then with a quick jerk, snapped the man's neck.

Crouching in front of Alexis, Rick said, "Alexis, we're ready to go."

Alexis was huddle against the wall where she had been left. She was still hugging herself and rocking, lost.

"This was a mistake," William said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

Rick looked over his shoulder to William and hissed, "You're a doctor, help her."

"What did you think would happen? This place is a goddamn trigger for her." William replied. "There's nothing I can do to help her. She has to come back from this on her own."

Rick exhaled deeply and turned back to Alexis. With both hands, Rick clasped the woman's face, leaned close, and peered hopefully into her beautiful blue but vacant eyes. "Sweetheart, please, I need you again, like I needed you with those two guards in the woods and the rifle. I need you a lot worse now, Alexis, because we don't have much time, not much time at all, and we're so close, we really are, so damn close."

Though their eyes were at most three inches apart, Alexis seemed not to see Rick. He let go of her face and hugged her fiercely.

"Come back, Sweetheart. It's okay. Come back to me, talk to me."

He let go of the woman and they made eye contact, real contact.

"Victor is never going to touch you again, the freak, the hateful bastard. He's never going to touch you again, but you have to work with me, you have to help and listen and be careful, so careful."

She slowly nodded.

"She should stay here," William told Rick.

"I'm okay," Alexis said weakly.

"Bullshit. You're a risk," he hissed. "We can't afford for you to have another one of your nervous breakdowns. If you do, we're sitting ducks."

Alexis grabbed her knife from the floor beside her and got to her feet. "That's not your call to make," She then turned to meet Rick's gaze. "I'm all right."

Rick was hesitant, but finally nodded.

William exhaled loudly.

Rick turned to him. "We don't have the time and we can't leave her here by herself either."

Trusting in the solidity of the floor, they stepped out into the hall. No boards sounded a complaint under their weight. Still, they stepped slowly, letting the weight of each of their steps come down gently on the bare wood.

The guest quarters were off the shorter arm of the L-shaped upstairs hall. To their right were the back stairs, which led down to God knows where. To their left lay the turn into the longer arm of the L.

Rick ruled out the back stairs. They were wooden and worn. They would creak and pop. The stairwell would act as an amplifier, as hollow and efficient as a steel drum. With the house so preternaturally silent, it would be impossible to creep down the back stairs undetected.

The second-floor hall and the front stairs, on the other hand, were plushly carpeted.

From around the corner, somewhere along the main hallway, came a soft amber glow. In the wallpaper, the delicate pattern of faded roses appeared to absorb the light rather than reflect it, acquiring an enigmatic depth that it had not previously possessed.

If the guards had been standing anywhere between the junction of the hallways and the source of the light, they would have cast a distorted shadow across that luminous paper garden or on the wheat-gold carpet. There was no shadow.

Keeping his back close to the wall, Rick edged to the corner, hesitated, and leaned out to scout the way ahead. The main hallway was deserted.

Two sources of faint amber light relieved the gloom. The first came from a half-open door on the right. The second was much farther down the hallway, past the front stairs, on the left.

Then Rick heard it. He barely heard it. A muffled cry coming from the half-open down to their right.

They quickly and silently crossed the hallway. At the half-opened door, they paused to listen.

"Are we really killing her? Victor said he wants her alive."

"He doesn't get to make that call. Clay to me it's the sister of the woman from Linden. How many of our guys were killed there the other day?

"Oh shit. I didn't know that was her sister. Screw Victor, then."

"Hold her still."

"Please. Oh, God. Please, please, don't do this. Please, God..." The woman pleaded.

"Kate," William whispered, his blood running cold.

"What?" Alexis whispered, hardly able to breath.

Alexis moved to rush by them, but Daryl grabbed her arm.

She turned to Daryl and gave him a heated glare, but he only shook his head in return as Rick and William swiftly and quietly entered the room. A few seconds later, a soft whistle sounded from the room.

Alexis wrenched her arm free from Daryl's grasp and entered the room.

The room was smaller than the master suite, with no sitting area. A corner desk. A double bed. One night stand with a brass lamp, a dresser, a vanity with a padded bench.

Kate was lying facedown on the bed, atop the sheets and the blankets. Her wrists were tied behind her.

She hadn't been violated. Thank God.

They moved deeper into the room.

William stooped beside the bed. His throat tightened with anguish and he could barely speak: "It's me."

Kate's eyelids sprang open, blue eyes wide with disbelief.

"William?"

"Ssshhh. We'll get you out of here."

Kate's voice began to quiver. "You're here. You're okay. I was so worried about you. I didn't think you'd come back."

"I'm here and I brought help. We're getting out of here. I promise." William said.

William glanced worriedly at the open door, then quickly rose to cut Kate free of her bonds. He circled her shoulders and then her waist until she was upright. She was about to embrace William when she caught sight of a woman.

Even from a distance, she was more beautiful than she remembered, and for what seemed an endless span of time, she couldn't say anything. It occurred to her that she might be hallucinating, but she slowly blinked and realized that she was wrong. She was real, and she was here.

Neither one of them was able to more or speak as surprise gradually turned to recognition.

"Alexis?" she finally asked, beginning to walk toward her.

She heard the wonder in her voice as she said her name, and it was that, more than anything, that let her know she was real. She's here, Kate thought, it's really her, and as she closed the distance between them. When Kate finally reached her, she opened her arms and Alexis went into them naturally, as she'd done so long ago. She pulled her close, holding her like the sisters they once had been, and she leaned into her, suddenly feeling safe again.

"Hello, Kate," she whispered.

They embraced for a long time, holding each other close in the pale moonglow at the windows, and for an instant Kate thought she felt her tremble. When they finally pulled apart, Alexis could sense her unspoken emotion.

Alexis studied her up close, noting the changes the years had wrought. Her face, she noticed, had lost the softness of youth. The angles of her cheekbones were more visible now and her eyes seemed deeper, framed by a faint tracing of lines at the corners. The years, she realized, had been more than kind.

"You're alive?" she asked, touching her arm as if to reassure herself that Alexis was real.

The question helped her regain her bearings, reminding her of who she'd become, and she took a tiny step backward. "I'm alive and I'm okay." she promised. "We'll talk later, okay? Where's Aubrey?"

"Downstairs," she answered weakly. "She's still locked inside that room. She's all by herself. She must be so scared right now."

Rick handed her a Glock. "You know how?"

"Yes," she replied as she reached for the gun in his hand.

They checked the other upstairs bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms to see if anyone was on the upper floor before they proceeded down.

The bottom of the stairs was hidden from view as they started around the curve at the top, so they stayed close to the wall, knife and gun at the ready for Victor, or anyone he might be with.

With each step down, the sound of voices from below became more distinct. Her muscles were tense and her palms were sweating.

What came into view were the backs of men dressed in camouflaged fatigues, holding assault rifles in their hands, discussing their next course of action.

Rick turned back to the others. "There's at least six men," he whispered. "Daryl, you, Alexis and Kate will head to the lower floor. William and I will cover the three of you."

The three nodded in affirmation and Rick and William rounded the stairway and began to open fire.

With Daryl taking point, Alexis and Kate hurriedly crossed the front room to a half-open door, went through, and found a kitchen. Canary-yellow ceramic tile with knotty pine cabinets. On the floor, grey vinyl tile speckled with yellow and green and red. Well scrubbed. Everything in its place.

The normality of the house terrified her: the gleaming surfaces, the tidiness, the homey touches, the sense that these people lived here at one time used to walk in daylight on any street and pass for human in spite of the atrocities that they had committed.

Don't think about it.

Keep moving. Safety in movement.

Without any architectural division, the kitchen opened into the dining area. The round dinette table was dark pine, supported by a thick central drum rather than legs; the four heavy pine captain's chairs featured tie-on back and seat cushions. To her left were the back the stairs, which led up to the second floor.

The kitchen door swung forward, knocking Alexis hard in the back causing her to stumble forward into Kate.

Daryl turned and lifted his rifle, shooting one of the men in the chest. While the other went around toward Alexis and Kate. Another guard jumped down the stairwell and knocked the rifle out of his hands. Daryl quickly pulled out his knife.

He tried to grab her, but he screamed in agony when his damaged hand connected with her arm. Acting on instinct, he threw his shoulder into her, driving her against the counter. He needed to take the gun away from her and press it into her temple. He stared at her with wide, hate-filled eyes, pulling her close, reaching for the gun with his good hand, using his weight against her.

He turned as Kate lifted her pistol and managed to land a quick blow to her abdomen.

He felt the barrel graze his fingertips and instinctively scrambled for the trigger. He tried to push the gun toward her, but it was moving in the wrong direction, pointing down now.

"You men are like fucking roaches," Alexis growled, fighting him with every ounce of rage and strength left in her, and he felt something give way, momentary clarity returning. He pulled the trigger and the gun sounded with a loud crack and then he knew it was almost over.

But strangely, Alexis didn't fall, didn't even flinch. Instead, she stared at him with fierce blue eyes, holding his gaze without blinking.

He felt something then, burning in his stomach, fire. His left leg gave way and he tried to stay upright, but his body was no longer his own. He collapsed on the floor, reaching for his stomach.

"You cunt," he whispered.

Blood pulsed through the wound, passing between his fingers. Above him, Alexis was going in and out of focus.

His breaths became ragged and then he started to feel cold, so cold, and he began to shake. He exhaled once more, the sound like air being released from a tire. His chest stopped moving. His eyes were wide open, uncomprehending.

Alexis quickly pulled Kate to her feet and turned to Daryl who was duking it out with the guard.

"Shoot him!" Kate cried.

Alexis lifted her pistol but couldn't get a good shot.

"Daryl, move!"

"Go!" Daryl yelled at them. "Get the kid!"

Alexis was hesitant for a moment, but she knew Daryl could take the sonofabitch. She needed to get to Aubrey.

At the north end of the dining area was another door. Alexis turned the knob as quietly as she could and the two women crossed the threshold with caution.

Beyond lay a combination laundry and storage room. A washer. An electric dryer. Boxes and bottles of laundry supplies were stored in an orderly fashion on two open shelves, and the air smelled like detergent and bleach.

To the left, past the washer and dryer, was another door—rough pine, painted lime green. She opened it and saw stairs leading down to a black cellar, and her heart began to beat faster.

"She's down there."

Leaning through the doorway, she felt along the stairwell wall for the switch, and snapped it up. Lights came on both at the upper landing and in the basement.

The bare concrete steps—a single flight—were steep. They appeared to be much newer than the house itself, perhaps even a relatively recent addition.

Alexis didn't want to go down into this windowless pit, with no way out except the stairs, even with a lockless door above. But she couldn't think of any way to avoid the descent, knowing that Aubrey was down there alone and afraid.

Alexis and Kate went down one step at a time, her left hand on the iron railing. The gun was extended in her right hand; she was clenching it so fiercely that her knuckles ached.

They reached the bottom of the stairs.

The outer wall of mortared stone was to her right. There was nowhere to go in that direction.

To her left was a chamber about ten feet from front to back, and as wide as the house. She moved away from the foot of the stairs, into this new space.

At one end stood an oil-fired furnace and a large electric water heater. At the other end were tall metal storage cabinets with vent slits in the doors, a workbench, and a tool chest on wheels.

Directly ahead, in a concrete-block wall, a strange door waited along with two guards chatting.

Before they could even had a chance to turn, Alexis shot the two men in the chest.

Evidently for soundproofing, the door in the back wall was padded like a theater door, in leather-grain maroon vinyl divided into quiltlike squares by eight upholstery nails with large round heads covered in matching vinyl. The frame was upholstered in the same material.

No lock, not even a spring latch, prevented her from proceeding.

Putting her hand on the vinyl, Alexis discovered that the padding was even more plush than it appeared to be. As much as two inches of foam covered the underlying wood.

She gripped the long stainless-steel, U-shaped handle. When she pulled, the vinyl-encased door softly scraped and squeaked across the upholstery on the jamb.

The fit was snug: When the door swung all the way free of the jamb and the seal was broken, there was a faint sound similar to that made when one opened a jar of vacuum-packed peanuts.

The door was upholstered on the inside as well. The overall thickness was in excess of five inches.

Beyond this new threshold lay a six-foot-square chamber with a low ceiling, which reminded her of an elevator, except that every surface other than the floor was upholstered. The floor was covered with a rubber mat of the kind used in many restaurant kitchens for the comfort of cooks who worked on their feet for hours at a time. In the dim light from the recessed overhead bulb, she saw that the fabric here wasn't vinyl but gray cotton with a nubbly texture.

The strangeness of the place sharpened her fear, yet at the same time she was so sure she understood the purpose of the padded vestibule that her stomach rolled with faint nausea.

Directly opposite the door that Alexis held open was one more door. It was also padded and set in an upholstered frame.

Finally, here were locks. The gray upholstery plumped around two heavy-duty brass lock cylinders. She couldn't proceed without keys.

Alexis turned to Kate and said, "I need a key."

Kate kneeled down on front of the two dead guards and quickly patted down. She turned to Alexis with wide eyes. "There's no keys!"

"Hey!" One guard shouted.

"Oh, shit." Kate lifted her gun and began firing at the guard. "We have to get her out of there. I'm not leaving without her!"

"I'll figure something out!" Alexis shouted.

Then she noticed a small padded panel overlying the door itself—at eye level, perhaps six by ten inches with a knob attached. It was like the sliding panel over the view port in the solid door of a maximum-security prison cell.

She would have preferred to hold open the outer door while she stepped into the vestibule and slid aside the panel on the inner view port, but the distance was too great. She had to let the door fall shut behind her.

The upholstered door met the upholstered jamb with a whisper-squeak of softly abraded vinyl. The quiet was so profound that even her ragged breathing was barely audible. Under the padding, the walls must have been covered with layers of sound-attenuating insulation.

All right, okay, be cool, keep moving, find out if Aubrey is here and then do what has to be done.

She felt as though she was suffocating. Perhaps ventilation in the vestibule was inadequate, but it was the sound-deadening effect of the padded walls, at least as much as poor airflow, that made the atmosphere seem as thick as smoke and unbreathable.

Alexis slid aside the padded panel on the inner door.

Beyond was rose-colored light.

The port was fitted with a sturdy screen to protect the viewer from assault by whoever or whatever was within.

Alexis put her face to the port and saw a large chamber nearly the size of the living room under which it was situated. In portions of the space, shadows were pooled deep, and the only light came from three lamps with fringed fabric shades and pink bulbs that were each putting out about forty watts.

At two places along the back wall were panels of red and gold brocade that hung from brass rods as if covering windows, but there could be no windows underground; the brocade was just set dressing to make the room more comfortable. On the wall to the left, barely touched by light, was a large tattered tapestry: a scene of women in long dresses and cloche hats riding horses sidesaddle through spring grass and flowers, past a verdant forest.

The furnishings included a plump armchair with antimacassars, a double bed with a white headboard painted with a scene not quite discernible in the rose light, bookcases with acanthus-leaf molding, cabinets with mullioned doors, a small dining table with a heavily carved apron, two Directoire chairs with flower-pattern upholstery flanking the table, and a refrigerator. An immense dark-stained armoire, featuring crackle-glazed flower appliqués on all the door panels, was old but probably not a genuine antique, battered but handsome. A padded vanity bench sat before a makeup table with a triptych mirror in a gilded, fluted frame. In a far corner was a toilet and a sink.

Then quiet movement in the room, a shadow coming out of gloom, proved to be the captive. She was the most beautiful child that Alexis had ever seen, with straight lustrous hair that was an enchanting shade of auburn in the peculiar light though platinum blond in reality. Fine-boned, slender, graceful, she possessed a beauty that was ethereal, angelic, and she seemed to be not a real girl but an apparition bearing a message about redemption, a manger, hope, and a guiding star.

The child sat in the armchair.

She was dressed in well-worn bootcut jeans and a light pink pique polo. She was holding a book. She opened it, turned a few pages, and appeared to read.

Although she had surely heard the panel sliding back from the view port in the door, she did not look up. Apparently she assumed that her visitor was, as always, the eater of spiders.

With a rush of emotion that pinched her heart and surprised her with its intensity, Alexis said,

"Aubrey."

The name fell through the port as into an airless void, having carried no distance whatsoever, creating no echo.

Their cell obviously had been lined with numerous layers of soundproofing, perhaps with even more layers than the vestibule.

Alexis raised her voice: "Aubrey."

The child failed to look up.

Louder still, all but shouting it through the screened port in the padded door: "Aubrey!"

The thick inner door of the soundproofed vestibule was equipped with three hinges. The pintle in each hinge had a slightly rounded head that overhung the gudgeon by about a sixteenth of an inch all the way around.

From the tools in the wheeled cabinet, Alexis selected a hammer and a screwdriver.

With the workbench stool and a scrap of wood for a wedge, she propped open the outer padded door of the vestibule. Then she placed her knife on the rubber mat on the vestibule floor, within easy reach.

"Aubrey," Alexis said.

The girl didn't respond.

"Don't be afraid."

Aubrey was so motionless that even her veil of hair did not stir.

She holstered her gun. "I'm coming, sweetheart. I'm coming."

She started with the lowest hinge. She held the screwdriver in her left hand, with the tip of the blade angled under the pintle cap. She gripped the hammer by the head and tapped the bottom of the screwdriver as forcefully as possible considering the limitations on movement. Fortunately, the hinge was well lubricated, and with each tap, the pintle rose farther out of the gudgeon. Five minutes later, in spite of some resistance from the third pin, she popped it out of the uppermost hinge.

The gudgeons were formed of interleaving knuckles that were part of the hinge leaf on the doorframe and that on the inner edge of the door itself. These knuckles separated slightly, because the pintles were no longer present to hold them together in a single barrel.

Now the door was kept in place only by the pair of locks on the right side, but one-inch deadbolts wouldn't swing like hinges. Alexis pulled the padded door by the knuckles of the gudgeons. At first only one inch of its five-inch width came out of the jamb on the left, vinyl squeaking against vinyl. She hooked her fingers around this exposed edge and yanked hard, and she was rewarded with the shrill metallic skreek of the brass deadbolts working in the striker plates and then with a faint crack of wood as the whole lock assembly put heavy strain on the jamb. Redoubling her efforts, she pulled rhythmically, prying open the door in tiny increments, until she was gasping so hard that she was no longer able to curse with frustration.

The weight of the door and the position of the two deadbolts began to work to her advantage. The locks were close together, one set directly over the other, not evenly spaced like hinges, so the heavy slab tried to twist on them as if they were a single pivot point. Because a greater length of the door lay above the locks than below, the top tipped outward, induced by gravity. Alexis took advantage of these inevitable forces, yanked harder, and grunted with satisfaction when wood splintered again. The entire five-inch width of the padded slab swung free of the jamb on the side that had been hinged. With the frame no longer in the way, she pulled the door to the left, and on the right side, the deadbolts slid out of the striker plates.

Suddenly the door came toward her, free of all restraint, and it was too heavy to be lowered slowly out of its frame. She backed rapidly into the cellar, letting the slab thud to the floor of the vestibule just as she vacated it.

Finally she reentered the vestibule. She crossed the fallen door as if it were a bridge, and she went into the cell.

The girl's head snapped up and she jump off the armchair and ran behind it.

"Aubrey?" Alexis said.

The girl didn't reply or raise her head.

Alexis kneeled in front of the armchair. "Honey, it's time to go."

When she received no response, Alexis leaned forward, lowered her head, and looked up at the girl's shadowed face.

"We have to go. Before he comes."

"Mommy?" Aubrey cried, in a tear-soaked voice.

Alexis smiled and nodded. "Yes. Yes, sweetheart I'm your-"

"Where's my mommy? I want my mommy."

Alexis's smile faded quickly and she felt her heart fall, wishing she could cry. She held back, knowing that if she started up again, she'd probably never stop.

William never told Aubrey about her. She hated him. She hated him so much in that moment. He took that away from her. She was her mother. Not Kate. Her. She wanted to scream and rage. But she didn't.

Heart pounding, tongue thick, she took both of the child's hands. For a while she didn't know what to say. Finally words came haltingly. "Your...your mommy's fine. I can take you to her."

Finally Alexis lifted the hands and kissed them more tenderly than she had ever kissed anyone before, more tenderly than she had ever been kissed, and she said softly, "I want to help you. I need to help you, honey. If I can't leave here with you, there's no point in my leaving at all."

The girl was very still. Then she blinked. Both of her hands tightened on Alexis's hands.

"Please let me help you." Softer still: "Please."

Aubrey's desire to reach out for help, tempered by her paralyzing fear of commitment, was achingly familiar to Alexis. It struck in her a chord of sympathy and pity for this girl, for all lost girls, and her throat tightened so severely that for a moment she was unable to swallow or breathe.

Then she slipped one hand into Aubrey's and the other over it, got up from the floor, and said, "Come on, child. Come with me. Out of here."

Rigid, shaking, Aubrey neither pulled away from Alexis nor leaned toward her. Gradually the child's trembling subsided. They crossed the fallen door through the vestibule.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

In that moment, every one of those dozens of surrounding walkers outside knew where they were.

At twenty minutes in, outside the front wall were dozens of Walkers assaulting the front gate with their fists and the combined weight of their surging bodies. The gate was flexing with each push.

The Walkers didn't focus on the gates. Whether through planning or the sheer weight of the mob just pushing forward, they spread out along the front wall, filling in the gaps between themselves and compressing together, shoving from behind, leaving no empty space. There was no inch of the wall that didn't have bloody hands and infected bodies pressing against it. The gravel road was hidden by the mass of bodies. The thicket of cedars of was alive with them. The street was full, and still more pushed through the forest from the other side of the road.

Then, what they'd have bet was not possible, happened. The wall swayed.

The flexing of the wall energized the horde, and they redoubled their efforts.

All along its length, the wall leaned, then suddenly fell over. The pushing Walkers fell on top of it, only to be trampled under the feet of those behind as they rushed onto Victor Hartley's green grass.

After that, everything happened way too fast.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Rick and William heaved for air as the gunfire ceased.

"We need to find the others," Rick said.

"Agreed," William said. "I'm sure they-"

A gun went off.

In the microseconds that it took to be surprised and process the sound, William's head snapped hard to the right and he seemed to have lost his balance. There was blood in the air. He was falling.

Before Rick even knew what was happening, rifle raised high. Victor swung hard, sending Rick crashing to the floor.

Victor heard the satisfying thud of the rifle, felt the vibration up his arm. The brown-haired man lay crumpled on the floor.

Rick woke face down on the floor in front of the staircase, aware that he must have been unconscious for a minute or two.

"It was inevitable that this would happen." Victor twirled the gun around on his index finger.

Rick struggled to roll over and stand. Victor raised the gun, pointing it as Rick finally made it to his feet. He swayed, almost losing his balance. He seemed unable to focus and Victor smiled.

William moaned from his spot on the floor.

"Oh," An amused grin appeared on Victor's face.

Rick lurched toward Victor, grabbed the gun with one hand lifting it away from William's face and up towards the ceiling causing Victor to pull the trigger while his other arm elbowed him across the face making him stumble back. The gun had fallen to the side. Acting on instinct, Rick threw his shoulder into him, driving him against the wall.

Rick stared at him with wide, hate-filled eyes. "You're gonna stay away from her!" He growled as he wrapped his hands tightly around Victor's throat.

Victor jabbed Rick in the side making him yelp. He released his grip around his throat as Victor punched him repeatedly. Rick clutched his side and gasped, obviously knocked breathless, but elbowed backward, jabbing Victor in the stomach. He doubled over and he escaped from his grasp, spinning and jabbing at the unfortunate bundle of nerves in Victor's back. He yelped and fell to his knees, but twisted and swiped out at the same time, catching Rick's right leg and yanking him down.

The two scrambled to their feet.

With surprising speed, Rick lunged toward Victor, his arms wide, intending to take him down. As Rick closed in, Victor kept one leg in place as he leaned to the opposite side, his arms sweeping as he used Rick's momentum to throw him off balance. A moment later, Rick was face down on the floor with Victor's boot on the back of his neck.

"Poor, poor, Rick. You lost your wife, Lori. I'm sure you blamed yourself." he said. "And you thought what? That you could make up for that by helping her?"

"No."

"Well then, what were you thinking? That you could be a hero?" Victor said. "You can't save one thing to make up for another, Rick. It's just not the way the world works."

Rick began to struggle beneath the boot, preparing to push himself up, but with a quick hop—while still keeping one boot planted firmly on Rick's neck—Victor's other foot slammed down on Rick's fingers, then quickly moved aside. On the ground, Rick retracted his hand and screamed while the boot on his neck pressed down even harder.

"Stop moving or it's only going to get worse." Victor's words were clear and slow, as if he were addressing a dimwit.

On the ground, Rick began to struggle again. Again, his fingers were stomped while the other boot remained fixed on his neck. Rick stifled a wail, his body gradually growing still.

"You've got balls, Rick. Coming into my home and killing my men." He sounded unconcerned, as if the circumstances were nothing out of the ordinary.

As soon as he heard Victor's voice, Rick resumed his struggle; again it ended with Rick jerking his hand back amid howls of pain. "I should thank you, Rick, really." Victor said. "You restored her. Brought her back. Only for me to bring her back down again. How do you think she'll take it when I'm inside her again? Or when I skin her while she's conscious and can't move a single muscle. You think maybe then that'll drive her over the edge?"

"Get off me! I'm going to kill you…I swear to God I'll kill you."

Victor sighed, putting even more pressure on the back of Rick's neck. This time, Rick's face was pressed hard into the floor. "You're pathetic. Weak. I could snap your neck easily while you're down. But I think I'm going to let you live. You wanna know why?" Victor asked.

When Rick didn't answer, Victor stomped on Rick's fingers once again. "Ask me why?"

Rick gave a muffled yelp. "Why?"

"Because, I want you to live knowing that you failed; that you couldn't save her. Every day when you wake up, you'll wonder what I'm doing to her in that exact moment. Wonder if she's screaming your name, screaming for you to come and save her and you'll know that there's not a Goddamn thing you can do to relieve her of that pain."

Rick felt the tears beginning to form.

"It's not going to be quick either. It'll be slow. Do you want to know the trick?" he asked. "I use small incisions with a fine instrument. That way, I can make it last for hours. And you will not believe how long I can make a minute feel."

Defeated, Rick stopped moving. Slowly but surely, the pressure eased off his neck and Rick cautiously turned his head.

"This was nice," Victor said. "You being here, us talking. It was really good seeing you again, Rick. Unfortunately, I must make haste. I don't like to be away from her too long. The two of us have a lot of catching up to do."

"Don't!" he grunted, his expression simultaneously surly and fearful.

After a beat, Victor lifted his boot and stepped back. In that instant, Victor lifted his foot and kicked Rick hard in the face, rendering him unconscious.

He straightened and turned to the kitchen. He located the lighter fluid—only two cans, not much. Not enough. He blinked, looking around for something else. He spotted the indoor grill.

Natural gas. Propane.

He approached the grill area, lifted the divider, and stood facing the grill itself. He turned a burner on, then another. There had to be a valve somewhere, but he didn't know where to find it and he didn't have time.

Victor shrugged off his jacket and he tossed it onto the flame. He opened the can of lighter fluid he was holding and sprayed it on the walls of the grill. He hopped up onto the counter and squirted some lighter fluid on the ceiling and got down again. Heran a trail of fluid along the front of the house, noticing that the jacket had begun to burn in earnest. He emptied the can and tossed it aside. Opening the second can, he squirted more fluid at the ceiling. The flames from the jacket began leaping toward the walls and the ceiling.

The can was empty now, too, and he took a few steps back. He flicked the lighter and held it against the gas-soaked wall, watching as the wood caught fire. He stood back, watching the fire start to consume the house, wiping his face, leaving trails of blood. In the glowing orange light, he looked like a monster.

"Come to me, Lexi."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

"Mommy!"

Aubrey ran to Kate and threw herself into her arms. Kate folded her arms around Aubrey, hugging her tightly and whispering words of reassurance.

Alexis turned her head away slightly and swallowed back tears.

The look on Alexis's face gutted Kate. As if learning about her family being held captive hadn't been enough, these words cast a shade of betrayal across her features that made her want to go to her then. To hold her to her and say she was sorry. For all of it.

"He didn't tell you, did he?"

"No," she finally said.

"Alexis-"

"It's all right, Kate." She assured her. "It hurts like hell, but I understand why the two of you did it. I wasn't there. You thought I was dead. She needed someone. She needed a mother."

Tears welled in Kate's eyes and her embrace tightened around Aubrey. "Thank you. Thank you."

Eventually, Kate separated from Aubrey's embrace and looked her in the eyes. "I want you to meet someone." She turned Aubrey to Alexis. "This is my sister, Alexis, your aunt."

Alexis crouched down in front of Aubrey with a tired smile. "You've grown so much. Last time I saw you were barely walking. Now look at you. You're so brave. So strong. I'm so proud of you. But I'm gonna need you to be brave a little while longer, can you do that?"

Aubrey nodded silently.

Her smile widened and she placed a hand on top of Aubrey's head. "Good. Then we'll be brave together."

Alexis stood and met Kate's watery gaze. "How many rounds do you have left?"

Kate shook her head. "I'm out. I used them up taking out that one guard." she replied. "You?"

"Dammit," Alexis muttered under her breath, then pulled out her Glock. "Not much. Maybe four or five rounds."

"Okay, that's not good." Kate said. "Maybe the guys took care of the others. Maybe there's no one left."

Alexis gave her a doubtful look. "Alright, this is what we're gonna go. I'm gonna take point. You hold onto Aubrey. You keep her close. Do not let go. Ever. Understand?"

Kate nodded quickly, her breathing picking up.

"Kate, you got this. We got this. We're survivors. We'll get through this. Trust me." Alexis said, though she was not sure if she believed it herself.

"Okay. Okay. I trust you.

"Alright, let's get the two of you out of here. It's time to go home."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

In his dream, Lori wasn't smiling as she stood beside Rick on the catwalk. She seemed to be searching the courtyard below, a frown of concentration on her face.

"She's not here."

Rick looked but there were so many people, so much movement.

"What?" he asked.

"She's gone," Lori said.

"Who?"

"You know."

In his dream, the catwalk started to collapse. The sound was loud, like the shattering of glass, and it seemed to signal a change. The prison's colors began to fade, the scene below dissolving into cloud banks that hadn't been there a moment before. As if the world were slowly being erased, and then everything suddenly dimmed. He was surrounded by impenetrable darkness, broken only by an odd flickering at the periphery of his vision, and the sound of someone talking.

Rick heard Lori's voice again, almost a whisper.

Can you smell it?

Rick sniffed, still lost in the haze. His eyes fluttered open, stinging for some reason as he tried to clear his sight. The dream was already fading away but he heard Lori's words clearly in his head.

Can you smell it?

Rick took a deep breath as he pushed herself to a sitting position and immediately started coughing. It took only an instant to realize that the room was filled with smoke. He bolted off the floor.

Suddenly, memories from his encounter with Victor began to resurface.

"Alexis!" He shouted in the smoke filled house.

Panic was beginning to take over Rick, so much that he didn't notice the walker tumbling down from the second floor. Slowly, it staggered to its feet and approached Rick from behind.

As Rick turned, the walker was about to pounce on him but not before Daryl flew down the stairs and jumped up, ramming an arrow down hard into its skull.

"Rick, come on. We've got to go."

Daryl spun around and shook William.

"Will, you need to wake back up. We need to go, man." No response. "Will!" He slapped him hard across the face, once, then twice. His eyes opened. Good.

He dragged him off of his butt.

Rick immediately began to cough, doubled over as Daryl dragged him out by the shirt. "Alexis! Where's Alexis!"

"I don't know!" Daryl shouted through the roar of the fire.

"We have to find her! Victor's here, he's looking for her!" Rick panicked.

"We'll find her! But we got to go, now!"

~THE WALKING DEAD~

As Alexis, Kate and Aubrey reached the top of the stairs, they immediately started coughing. It took only an instant to realize that the room was filled with smoke.

Smoke meant fire, and now she could see the flames on the staircase to her right, dancing and twisting orange. Everything was on fire, smoke billowing from the kitchen in thick clouds. She heard roaring, a sound like a train, heard cracks and pops and splintering, her mind taking it in at once.

Oh, my God.

"The house is on fire! We've got to get out!"

Kate picked up Aubrey and held her close. "C'mon!" Alexis screamed. The hallway was an impenetrable wall of smoke, but she rushed forward nonetheless, pulling Kate and Aubrey behind her.

As they clambered up the stairs to the second floor, two guards who turned from their impending death came up from the upper level. She shouldered the first one and stabbed the blade hard into the other Walkers temple, a move that was a mistake. As the Walker lost his grip and started to fall, her knife wedged into his skull, and she wasn't able to keep hold of it as he tumbled down the stairs with the other.

Shit!

The roaring of the fire was so loud, she could barely hear the sound of her own voice. Half-carrying, half-dragging them up the stairs, she saw an orange glow, barely visible through the smoke, where the entrance to the hallway was. The wall crawled with fire, flames on the ceiling, moving toward them. She didn't have time to think, only had time to react. She turned and pushed them back down the hallway toward the master bedroom, where the smoke was less thick. Where the dead boy hung in the closet.

They rushed into the room and slammed the door behind them. Unfortunately, the glass doors ahead where she had first come though was on fire. To her left was a rocking chair and a window, thankfully untouched as yet by fire.

Racked by coughing spasms, she stumbled forward, dragging Kate and Aubrey. Both of them were wailing between hoarse bouts of coughing. She tried to free herself to raise the bedroom window, but Kate clung to her.

"I need to open the window!" she screamed, shaking herself free. "This is the only way out!" In her panic, she didn't understand, but Alexis didn't have time to explain. She holstered her weapon and frantically, she tore at the old-fashioned window lock and tried to heave the heavy pane up. It wouldn't budge. Peering closer, Katie realized that the frame had been painted shut, probably years ago. She didn't know what to do, but the sight of her family staring at her in terror cleared her head. She looked around, frantic, finally seizing the rocking chair.

It was heavy, but somehow she lifted it above her shoulder and heaved it at the window with all her might. It Cracked but didn't break. She tried again, sobbing through a last burst of adrenaline and fear, and this time the rocking chair went flying out, crashing onto the overhang below. Moving fast, Alexis raced to the bed and tore off the comforter. She bundled it around Kate and Aubrey and began pushing them toward the window.

There was a loud splintering sound behind her as part of the wall burst into flame, tendrils licking the ceiling. She heard a roar above her as the ceiling started to give way.

Whirling around, she pushed through the window, holding them in the circle of her arms and praying that the comforter would protect them from glass shards. They seemed to hang in the air for an eternity, Alexis twisting as they fell so that Kate and Aubrey would land on top of her. She hit the overhang on her back with a whump. It wasn't far, maybe four or five feet, but the impact left her breathless before pain rolled over her in waves.

Aubrey was hiccupping in fear, wailing and coughing. But she was alive. She blinked, trying not to pass out, sure she'd broken her back. But she hadn't; she moved one leg, then the other. She shook her head to clear her vision. Kate and Aubrey were struggling on top of her, trying to get free of the comforter. Above her, tongues of flame began to flare from the broken bedroom window. Flames were everywhere now, all over the house, and she knew they had only seconds to live unless she somehow summoned the strength to move.

Kate and Aubrey were already sitting up as Alexis rolled over. The ground was perhaps a ten-foot drop from the overhang, a small group of walkers waiting for them, to feed, but she had to risk it. They were running out of time.

She drew her gun. Exhaling deeply, she pulled the trigger and shot down the walkers. She cursed and casted the empty gun aside.

Kate was beginning to sob but didn't protest as Alexis quickly explained what was going to happen next. She seized her arms, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm going to lower you as far as I can, but then you're going to have to jump."

Kate nodded, seemingly in shock, and she quickly scooted toward the edge, dragging Kate with her. She moved to the edge and Alexis grabbed her hand. The overhang was shaking now, fire climbing up both support columns.

Kate climbed over, legs first, holding on, Alexis sliding on her belly toward the edge. Lowering her… God, the agony in her arms…four feet, no more, she told herself. She wouldn't fall far and she would land on her feet.

She let go as the roof shuddered. Aubrey crawled toward her, trembling.

"Okay, baby, your turn," Alexis urged. "Give me your hand."

She did the same thing with Aubrey, holding her breath as she let go. Kate caught her. A moment later, both of them were on their feet, staring up at her. They were waiting for her.

"Run!" she screamed. "Move back!"

Her words were swallowed by another coughing spasm, and she knew she had to move. She grabbed the edge of the overhang and swung one leg off, then the other. She dangled for only an instant before her grip weakened.

She hit the ground and felt her knees buckle before she rolled to a stop. Her legs screamed with pain, but she had to get them to safety. She scrambled toward them, seizing their hands and beginning to drag them away.

Fire was dancing, leaping, spurting toward the sky. Nearby trees caught fire, their upper branches sparking like firecrackers. There was a sharp clap, loud enough to make her ears ring. She chanced a peek over her shoulder, just in time to see the walls of the building collapse inward. Then there was the deafening sound of an explosion, and Alexis, Kate and Aubrey were knocked over in the scorching blast of air.

By the time the three of them caught their breath and turned to look, the house was nothing but a gigantic cone of fire.

But they'd made it. She pulled both Kate and Aubrey toward her. "You're okay," she murmured. "You're safe now."

It was only when a shadow appeared before her that she realized she was wrong.

It was him, looming over them, a gun at his side.

Victor.

Alexis had trouble processing what she was seeing.

"Surprise." Victor rasped out. She recognized the voice, even with his face partly in shadow. The inferno blazed behind him and his face was covered in soot and blood. There were smears of what she thought was blood on his shirt as well.

Victor raised the gun, pointing it at her. "Get up."

Alexis got to her feet. Kate and Aubrey clung to her, fear etched on their faces. Victor's eyes were feral. He took a step toward them.

She had to get them away, had to give them a chance to run.

"Time to choose, Lexi. Who lives, and who dies. But pick quickly, because in 30 seconds, I will shoot them both."

She shook her head and swallowed the knot in her throat. "No. I'm not playing this game with you again, Victor. Kill me."

"No!" Kate screamed.

Alexis took a tentative step forward. "Choose me, please."

"I am killing you, Lexi." he said. "Only more slowly than you would like."

Closer, Alexis thought. Almost there. She took another step forward, pushing her family behind her.

"You're not hurting my family you fucking psychopath,"

"Choose."

"No!"

Suddenly, Alexis lunged forward, pushing the gun away. It fired, the sound like a vicious slap, but she kept moving forward, clinging to his wrist, not letting go. Aubrey started to scream.

"RUN!" Alexis shouted over her shoulder. "Kate, take Aubrey and run! He's got a gun! Get as far away as you can and hide!"

The panic in Alexis's voice seemed to galvanize Kate and she picked up Aubrey and took off running. They headed toward the gate, racing toward the others. Fleeing for their lives.

"Bitch!" Victor screamed, trying to free his arm. Alexis lowered her mouth and bit down as hard as she could and Victor let out a ferocious cry. Trying to pull the arm free, he slammed his other fist into her temple. Instantly, she saw flashes of white light. She bit down again, finding his thumb this time, and he screamed, letting go of the gun. It clattered to the ground and he punched her again, catching her on her cheekbone, knocking her to the ground.

He kicked her in the back and she arched with pain. But she kept moving, in panic now, fueled by the certainty that he meant to kill her and her family. She had to give them time to get away. She rose to all fours and started crawling, moving fast, gaining speed. Finally, she surged to her feet, a sprinter coming out of the blocks.

She ran as fast as she could, forcing herself forward, but she felt his body slam into her from behind and she lay breathless on the ground again. He grabbed her by the hair and hit her again. He seized an arm and twisted it, trying to work it behind her back, but he was off balance and she was slippery enough to turn onto her back.

Reaching up, she clawed at his eyes, catching one in the corner, tearing hard.

Fighting for her life, adrenaline flooding her limbs. Fighting to give Kate and Aubrey time to run away and hide. Screaming curses at him, hating him, refusing to let him beat her again.

He snatched at her fingers, tottering off balance, and she used the opportunity to wiggle away. She felt him clawing at her legs, but his grip wasn't good enough and she pulled one leg free. Pulling her knee up toward her chin, she kicked him with all her force, stunning him as she connected with his chin. She did it again, watching this time as he toppled sideways, his arms grabbing at nothing.

She scrambled to her feet and started to run again, but Victor was up just as quickly. A few feet away, she saw the gun and she lunged for it.

Rick radioed in to Maggie. Alexis hadn't made it back. Neither had Kate or Aubrey.

"Get him back to the others. I'm going back." Rick said, his breathing heavy.

"You can't go back there by yourself." Michonne said.

"I'm fine." William said, pressing the torn fabric from his sleeve on his head. "Let's go. They're still in there."

Rick was running recklessly past walkers, praying for the safety of Alexis, whispering her name inpanic as they ran back toward the burning house.

There were eight or nine of the walkers gorging themselves on the fallen guards by the gate.

He noticed movement on the side of the road, up ahead. Two figures, covered in soot. Kate and Aubrey.

They rushed toward them. They cried out for William as they ran, and he bent down to scoop Aubrey into his arms and pulled Kate into a hug.

"You're okay," he murmured over and over, holding them in the tight circle of his arms. "You're okay, you're okay."

Kate and Aubrey were both sobbing and at first he didn't understand what they were saying because they weren't talking about the fire. They were crying about a man with a gun, that Alexis was fighting him, and then he suddenly knew with chilling clarity what had happened.

"Get them back to the others!" Rick barked to Daryl. "Go!"

He counted off the seconds as he turned around and ran for the burning house, praying that he wasn't too late. Praying that Alexis was still alive.

Victor saw the gun in the same instant she did and dove for it, reaching it first. He snatched it up and pointed it at her, enraged. He grabbed her by the hair and put the gun to her head as he began dragging her across the lot.

"Leave me? You can't leave me!"

Behind the house, beneath a tree, she saw his car, with its Georgia plates. The heat from the fire scorched her face, singeing the hair on her arms. Victor was raging at her, his voice gravelly.

"I own you!"

In the distance, she could faintly make out voices, but they seemed so far away. When they reached the car, she tried to fight again but Victor slammed her head onto the roof and she almost passed out. He opened the trunk and tried to force her in. Somehow she turned and managed to drive her knee into his groin. She heard him gasp and felt his grip loosen momentarily.

He reached out, trying to grab her, and she turned, trying to run. He was ready for her and there was nowhere to go. He struck fast and hard, his fist a piston, firing at her lower back. She gasped, her vision going black in the corners, feeling as though she'd been pierced with a knife. She collapsed to the ground, her kidney on fire, the pain shooting through her legs and up her spine. The world was spinning, and when she tried to get up, the movement only made it worse.

"It's time to come home!" he said, towering over her.

She said nothing. Couldn't say anything. Couldn't breathe. She bit her lip to keep from screaming and wondered if she would pee blood tomorrow. The pain was a razor, slashing at her nerves, but she wouldn't cry because he got off on it.

He continued to stand over her, then lifted his pistol high and brought it down hard across her face, knocking her unconscious.

"Alexis!"

From within the mass of Walkers in the courtyard, the Honda car unexpectedly emerged, moving as fast as a race car.

Roaring past walkers, toward Rick.

Rick saw the Honda coming and raised the gun. He began firing, but the Honda kept coming toward him. Michonne pulled Rick out of the way as the Honda roared past, nearly clipping her hand in the process.

"Alexis!"

Rick shot down a walker feasting on one of the guards and pulled the two-way radio out from dead guard's jacket.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, it's not necessary." Rick said. "We can work something out."

"She really means a lot to you, doesn't she?

"Yes."

"It must be terrible going through this again." he said. "Losing your wife, the woman you loved. And now Alexis. I imagine it seems to you like some kind of terrible curse."

"Just listen to me. I'll turn myself over to you."

"Appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I must decline."

"Then tell me what you want."

"I have what I want."

Knowing they had to move fast, Michonne headed for the bus to chase after Victor. Rick didn't move.

"Rick." Michonne said. "Rick, we have to go after Alexis. We can't let Victor-"

Having lost Alexis to Victor, after going through so much to protect her, Rick collapsed to the ground into a state of shock.

"Rick, you have to get up. We need you." Michonne yelled. "Rick!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger from hell. Don't kill me! I'm currently working on the next chapter. It's almost done. Reviews please!


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Thanks to all of those who've reviewed, favorite, followed and Kudoed Restoration. We're nearing the end. There is one chapter remaining after this installment.

This story is Rated M. We're in the Walking Dead Universe. Not all stories can be fluffy and nice and this is a fic that explores the darker side of things.

Reviews are welcome and most appreciated. Thank you.

Restoration: Chapter 20

Alexis banged on the trunk door and screamed until her throat was raw, tears gushing down her cheeks. He drove for what felt like several hours, and then she felt him pulling off. She heard the gravel beneath the tires and was jerked from side to side as Victor drove the car into a place where she knew no one would find her. Would he kill her when he got her there? Was this how it would all end?

"No. No. No." She whimpered, fruitlessly trying to loosen her binds behind her back.

She screamed and banged against the trunk, using all the strength she had to break free,

Finally, she heard the engine cut off, heard the door close.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

A minute later the trunk lid flew open. Alexis drew back, petrified. His hand reached into the trunk and tangled his fingers into her hair.

"Get out." he ordered.

Alexis couldn't move. She bit her lip, choking back a sob.

Gripping her hair tighter, he yanked her out of the trunk. Her legs crumpled.

"Sorry," he pulled her up. "You can't rest here."

He half-dragged, half-carried her screaming and kicking through the door

"No! No!" Alexis screamed. "No! No! No!"

He kicked open the half-open door and her breathing started to pick up.

An expansive iron grid suspended from the ceiling, eight foot square at least, and from it hung chains and glinting shackles. By the door stood a 6 drawer tool center with various surgical instruments lied out. There was six-foot-long table in the opposite corner-stainless steel. A mattress lied on the floor with sheets and blankets wadded up in the middle; chains mounted to the wall beside it.

Alexis closed her eyes and swallowed hard, but nothing could stop the tears and the memories from coming.

"You remember this place? Should feel like home." He murmured in her ear.

Her eyes were unable to shift from the room. She couldn't think. She could barely breathe.

He cut her free from her binds and said, "Well, don't worry. It'll all come back to you."

Victor circled her body, catching her elbow when she went to move away.

"Stop fighting. Alexis."

He hauled her against him, securing her again by the waist as he dragged her toward the iron grid.

She writhed in his hold, as if she was drowning and trying to kick to the surface. But he held her tighter, letting her know he wasn't letting go this time.

He punched her twice in the stomach-her breath whooshed out of her, and the pain shocked her as much as it hurt-and once in the jaw. The pain was excruciating. The room dimmed. She prayed for everything to completely black. It didn't.

He reached up and took down some shackles with brown leather cuffs.

Her breath caught as he stretched her arms about her, encasing her wrists in the restraining cuffs.

She twisted her wrists, a pointless effort since she had no way of breaking free on her own. As she did, her heartbeat ratcheted to a rapid rate, panic seeping in.

He stepped back and gazed at her and said, "You look mighty fine tethered up like this, Lexi."

He smiled at her, triumphant.

"Go fuck yourself." She hissed and spit in his face.

He wiped the spit off his face and said, "The more you piss me off, the longer I'll keep you alive."

He turned and went to his tool chest beside the door and ran his hand gently across the sterile instruments.

"What are you going to do?"

Her palms went damp with fear. A slow tremble worked its way through her body. Her chest heaved, and she fought for breath as she waited.

"What do you think?"

He grabbed something off from the tool chest and walked towards her.

"You ran from me. And you fought me. We'll see how long you can keep it up, because you're going to get the punishment of a lifetime tonight."

Victor cut through Alexis's shirt with a pair of surgical scissors, shearing it up the center. He cut through her black bra as well, exposing her breasts.

"Mmm, I've missed this."

His hand skimmed down her body, over her breast. She clenched her jaw and took a deep breath through her gritted teeth. He continued down to her waist, then pauses.

He noticed the sutured wound.

"Oh, what's this?"

His palm made hard contact with her side. She jolted at the shock of pain.

"Someone else has his hands on you. We're not going to let that happen again, are we?"

She remained silent.

"Alexis, answer me." His voice was hard and clipped, his hand falling hard on the same spot.

"Go to hell,"

"I want to hear you." His hand made contact once more, smarting the skin that was nearly numb from the endorphins now. "I want to hear those helpless little cries you give me."

She didn't make a sound, her cries burning in her throat.

"Hmm," He walked back over to the cart and grabbed a pair of tweezers from the drawer and pulled up a stool beside her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to remain calm.

Using the pair of tweezers, he gently lifted the knot of the first stitch slightly above the skin. Holding the knot above her skin, he used his other hand to wield the scissors and snipped the suture next to the knot. Using the tweezers to continue grasping the knot and gently pull the stitch through your skin and out.

Alexis groaned as she felt a bit of pressure.

Blood trickled out of the wound as Victor continued removing the stitches. Once he was finished, he set the surgical instruments back down onto the cart and stepped up beside her.

He pressed a fingertip just inside the now healing wound.

She shook her head as much as she could. She'd made it through the pain, but she couldn't take any more. She didn't think she could anyway.

A second finger entered her. Her jaw dropped in a breathless cry when the pain pulsed through her.

Fucking fuck, that hurts.

He paused, waiting for her to scream. When she didn't, he plunged deeply. She bit her lip and suppressed a scream. Undeniably, it hurt. Her entire body tensed against each plunge. Tears stung her eyes, her throat thick with pent up emotion.

He'll come for me. He'll come for me. He'll come for me. She repeated the words like a mantra until they lost meaning.

"No...He won't."

Her eyes shot open. She'd said the words aloud. All of them. In a blind rush of wanting to be saved.

"He will come for me." She croaked, her voice jagged with the need to cry.

He paused a moment, then plunged his digits in deeper. Somehow, the pain cut right through the shadow of misery that had fallen over me. She sobbed into her arm. The tears spilled over, saturating her skin, breaking her down.

Her body went lax, even as he continued, as if she'd been broken down completely, stripped down to the most bare, raw state she could imagine.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Week Two:

The tears burned and streamed down her cheeks.

Victor smiled as he made a long, barely-bleeding cut across her stomach with his scalpel.

"Please…" The plea was weak as it left her lips.

He made another line, parallel to the first.

"Rick," she whispered. "Where are you, Rick? Help me. I need you."

Turning her eyes to the corner of the room, she imagined she saw Rick standing there, with his hands in his pockets and a sad look on his face. Her heart lifted; she was convinced he was truly in the room. "Rick," she moaned. "You found me. Please, help me." She blinked and the image dissipated, but not before Victor glanced in the direction she had been staring, as if he also expected to see him standing there.

"No!" She wailed, thrashing against her restraints.

Lapping at the knife wound, Victor smacked and slurped. "Mmm. Nothing like fresh blood." With a grin, he stuck out his tongue, revealing the slick red coating.

He dug his fingers under a strip of skin and held it over Alexis for her to see. "Lovely…"

Victor brought his hand to his mouth and tipped his head back slightly. He put the skin in his mouth and sucked on the trailing piece until it disappeared into his mouth.

He stood motionless, savoring.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

The silence that filled the prison threatened to send Rick over the edge. Alexis had been missing for two excruciatingly long weeks. Daryl had sent out countless search parties, but Victor's trail had run cold.

For the past two weeks everyone who knew Alexis was in a state of disarray. Michonne found it difficult to stay at the prison and made up excuses not to stay there.

Glenn, Carol, and the others were among the first to volunteer for the search parties. No inch of West Georgia was left unsearched. They spent hours combing the area, looking for the slightest hint to where their friend could be.

Carl spent the day cleaning his gun. He was far past being upset, but couldn't bring himself to say how he felt. Continuously, he'd glance over to the backpack leaning up against the wall, unable to bring himself to open it.

Kate was a spastic mess. From the moment she woke up, she couldn't stop crying and no amount of comfort could mend her broken heart. Her baby sister was not with her and, for all she knew, dead. She had prayed numerous times to a God she was quickly losing faith in to bring her back, but her prayers went unheard.

William was, well, not William. He often stared off into the distance and his thoughts were never where they were supposed to be. There were days when he refused to go to sleep and continued working around the clock. At one point Hershel had to spike his drink in order for him to get some sleep.

But above all the pain and grief, the person who was struck the most was the person who had the most to lose. For two weeks, Rick hardly said a word. Sleep seemed so foreign to him. If he wasn't out looking for her, he was sitting in his room.

The gray walls, the scent of her lilac lotion on his pillow, this was the only place Rick could go to think, but it was also the only place that tortured him the most. He reached over and touched the empty space where Alexis had lain and felt tears behind his eyelids. His constant lack of knowing how she was sickened him. So many questions filled his mind that the constant worry threatened his sanity. There was a brief period that he could have sworn that he heard her voice. He could hear her crying out for him, calling him to her.

The next day, Hershel showed up to Rick's room bright and early. "What do you want?" His voice was cold and angry, something that everyone had become accustomed to during the past few weeks.

"We need to keep looking for her."

"Hershel-"

"There has to be more that we can do."

"Hershel-"

"We can't give up hope. She wouldn't quit on us."

"Shut up!"

Seconds later, Glenn and Tyreese were outside the door.

"Leave," he ordered.

"Rick-"

Rick stood up, grabbed his chair, and threw it across the room. The chair, which just barely missed Hershel and the two men behind him who dared to speak up, hit against the rail before sliding to the floor. "I said leave!" As quickly as they appeared, Glenn and Tyreese left. The Sheriff's hard stare rested on the man in front of him. "I have sent out search parties, I've asked the two best trackers to look out for Alexis and Victor, but so far they have nothing. What else can I do, Hershel! If you have any suggestions, feel free to speak up."

His outburst didn't strike Hershel as strange or out of character. Instead, he expected it. He had been pressing him constantly about finding Alexis and he held up his end well. He did everything he could to find the woman he loved.

"We have to keep looking."

"Does it look like I've given up?" The two men fell silent. They knew what little chance they had of finding Alexis or that she would still be alive. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, Hershel. We can't kid ourselves forever."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Week 3:

She was back in her great deep silent place of her own, untouchable. A welcoming place in her mind, a realm that she herself invented.

She had always been able to come back from those escapements. But on occasion, she had thought about how wonderful it would be to stay in that faraway place, where neither Victor nor Victor's kind would ever be able to find her again, no matter how hard they looked.

Victor tucked himself away and buttoned his shirt. As he moved toward the door to retrieve her clothes sitting on the tool chest, he took a casual glance at her untouched plate.

"You're not eating quite as much as you should," he admonishes. "That's ungrateful of you. You should eat. You've lost two or three pounds. It hasn't affected your looks yet, but you can't lose any more."

She gazed into thin air, as if waiting for her voice-box string to be pulled before she recited recorded messages.

"Don't think you can starve yourself until you're haggard and unattractive. You can't escape me that way, Lexi. I'll strap you down and force-feed you if I have to. I'll make you swallow a rubber tube and pump baby food into your stomach. In fact, I'd enjoy it. Do you like pureed peas? Carrots? Applesauce? I guess it doesn't matter, since you won't taste them—unless you regurgitate."

He moved to the bed and stood over her.

She didn't acknowledge him, and although he had entered her line of sight, her gaze had somehow shifted above and to one side of him without his being aware of the moment when it happened.

She was magically evasive.

Unbuckling the cuffs, he freed her hands, but she doesn't move.

He tossed her some clothes and said, "Get dressed. I'm heading out for supplies. You look pretty pasty; think you could use a little light while I'm out."

She said nothing.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

The steel cuffs on Alexis's ankles were linked by a sturdy chain. A second and far longer chain, connected by a carabiner to the first, wound around the thick legs of the chair and around the stretcher bars between the legs, returned between her feet, encircled the big barrel that supported the round table, and connected again to the carabiner. The chains didn't contain enough play to allow her to stand. Even if she'd been able to stand, she would have had to carry the chair on her back, and the restricting shape and the weight of it would have forced her to bend forward like a hunchbacked troll. And once standing, she could not have moved from the table to which she was tethered.

Her hands were cuffed in front of her. A chain was hooked into the shackle that encircled her right wrist. From there it led around her, wound between the back rails of the chair behind the tie-on pad, then to the shackle on her left wrist. This chain contained enough slack to allow her to rest her arms on the table if she wished.

She sat with her hands folded, leaning forward, staring at the glass of water, waiting.

Then she heard footsteps approaching.

"I'll finish dressing and be gone. Back as soon after midnight as I can be."

His gaze traveled over her, and he seemed to be looking for a loose link in one of the chains or a handcuff left open and unnoticed until now.

"Stay?" he said.

She nodded.

"Good girl."

He went to the door between the kitchen and the living room.

Realizing that they had one more issue to discuss, she said, "Before you go…"

He turned to look at her.

"Could you take me to a bathroom?"she asked.

"It's too much trouble to undo the chains just now," he said. "Piss in your pants if you have to. I'm going to clean you up later anyway. And I can find new chair cushions."

He pushed through the door into the living room and was gone.

Alexis was determined not to endure the humiliation of sitting in her own waste. She had a faint urge to pee, but it wasn't insistent yet. Later she would be in trouble.

How odd—that she could still care about avoiding humiliation or think about the future.

Halfway across the living room, Victor stopped to listen to the woman in the kitchen. He heard no clink of chains. He waited. And still no sound. The silence troubled him.

He wasn't sure what to make of her. He knew so much about her—yet she still contained mysteries.

Shackled and in his complete control. She smelled of despair and defeat. In the beaten tone of her voice, he saw the gray of ashes and felt the texture of a coffin blanket. She was as good as dead, and she was resigned to it. Yet…

From the kitchen came the clink of chains. Not loud, not a vigorous assault on her bonds. Just a quiet rattle as she shifted position—perhaps to clasp her thighs tightly together to repress the urge to urinate.

Victor smiled.

After Victor turned off the lights and left the kitchen, Alexis leaned back in the pine captain's chair.

She was crying. Through the many weeks since she had come under Victor's thrall, she had felt tears welling more than once, and she had repressed them. But she couldn't dam this hot flood. She despised herself for crying—but only briefly. These bitter tears were a welcome admission that there was no hope for her. They washed her free of hope, and that was what she wanted now, because hope led only to disappointment and pain. Great wet sobs shook Alexis so hard that her chest began to ache worse than her abdomen. Her throat soon felt hot and raw. She sagged in her clinking chains, in her imprisoning chair, face clenched and streaming and hot, stomach clenched and cold, the taste of salt in her mouth, gasping, groaning in despair, choking on the smothering awareness of her terrible solitude. She shuddered uncontrollably, and her hands spasmed into frail fists but then opened and grasped at the air around her head as if her anguish were a cowl that might be torn off and cast aside.

After a while, an engine roared. She heard the brassy toot of a horn: two short blasts and then two more.

Alexis lifted her head, looked through the nearby window, and saw the headlights of a car leaving the barn. Her vision was blurred by tears. She couldn't see the car itself as it sped past the house in the gray dusk, but it must be driven by Victor, of course. Then it was gone.

The jaunty toot of the horn mocked her, but that mockery wasn't enough to rekindle her anger.

Then, as she was still gazing out the window, she saw something moving in the last of the dusk. Though it was blurred by her tears, she could see that it was too large to be a Walker.

Alexis blotted her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater, and she blinked until the mysterious shape resolved out of tears and twilight shadows. It was an elk. A female, without antlers.

It ambled across the backyard, from the forested foothills to the west, pausing twice to tear up a mouthful of the succulent grass. These animals were highly sociable and always traveled in herds, but this one seemed to be alone.

Walkers should have been after this intruder, snarling and excited by the prospect of blood. Yet no Walkers were in sight.

Likewise, the elk should have caught the scent of the Walkers and galloped at once for safety, wild-eyed and snorting. Nature had made its kind prey to mountain lions and wolves and packs of coyotes; as dinner-on-the-hoof to so many predators, elk were always watchful and cautious.

But this specimen seemed utterly unconcerned that Walkers were in the immediate neighborhood. Except for the two brief pauses to graze on the lush grass, it came directly to the back porch, with no sign of skittishness.

The imposing creature stood outside the wooden balustrade of the shallow porch, no more than eight feet away, staring directly at the window. At Alexis.

She found it difficult to believe that the elk could see her. With the lights off, the kitchen was currently darker than the dusk in which the animal stood. From its perspective, the interior of the house should have been unrelievedly black.

Yet she couldn't deny that its eyes met hers. Large dark eyes, shining softly.

As the deep-purple sky turned to indigo and then to India ink, the eyes of the elk grew gradually more luminous. They were not red like the eyes of some animals at night, but golden.

Pale plumes of breath streamed rhythmically from its wet black nostrils.

Without breaking eye contact with the animal, Alexis pressed the insides of her wrists together as best she could with the handcuffs intervening. The steel chains rattled: all the lengths between her and the chair on which she sat, between her and the table, between her and the past.

She remembered her solemn pledge, to kill herself rather than be Victor's victim once again. She had believed that she would be able to find the courage to bite open the veins in her wrists and bleed to death. The pain would be sharp but relatively brief…and then she would fade sleepily from this blackness into another, which would be eternal.

She had stopped crying. Her eyes were dry.

Her heartbeat was surprisingly slow, like that of a sleeper in the dreamless rest provided by a powerful sedative.

She raised her hands in front of her face, bending them backward as severely as possible and spreading her fingers wide so she could still gaze into the eyes of the elk.

She brought her mouth to the place on her left wrist where she would have to bite. Her breath was warm on her cool skin.

The light was entirely gone from the day. The mountains and the heavens were like one great black looming swell on a night sea, a drowning weight coming down.

The elk's heart-shaped face was barely visible from a distance of only eight feet. Its eyes, however, shone.

Alexis put her lips against her left wrist. In the kiss, she felt her dangerously steady pulse.

Through the gloom, she and the sentinel elk watched each other, and she didn't know whether this creature had mesmerized her or she had mesmerized it.

Then she pressed her lips to her right wrist. The same coolness of skin, the same ponderous pulse.

She parted her lips and used her teeth to pinch a thickness of flesh. There seemed to be enough tissue gathered between her incisors to make a mortal tear. Certainly she would be successful if she bit a second time, a third.

On the brink of the bite, she understood that it required no courage whatsoever. Precisely the opposite was true. Not biting was an act of valor.

But she didn't care about valor, didn't give a rat's ass about courage. Or about anything. All she cared about was putting an end to the loneliness, the pain, the achingly empty sense of futility.

For a while she remained poised for the fatal nip.

Between its solemn measured beats, her heart was filled with the stillness of deep water.

Then, without being aware of releasing the pinch of flesh from between her teeth, Alexis realized that her lips were pressed to her unbitten wrist again. She could feel her slow pulse in this kiss of life.

The elk was gone.

Gone.

Alexis was surprised to see only darkness where the creature had stood. She didn't believe that she had closed her eyes or even blinked. Yet she must have been in a blinding trance, because the stately elk had vanished into the night as mysteriously as a stage magician's assistant dematerializes beneath an artfully draped black shroud.

Suddenly her heart began to pound hard and fast.

"No," she whispered in the dark kitchen, and the word was both a promise and a prayer.

Her heart like a wheel—spinning, racing—drove her out of that internal grayness in which she had been lost, out of that bleakness into a brighter landscape.

"No." There was defiance in her voice this time, and she did not whisper. "No."

She shook her chains as if she were a spirited horse trying to throw off its traces. "No, no, no. Shit, no." Her protests were loud enough for her voice to echo off the hard surface of the refrigerator, the glass in the oven door, the ceramic-tile counters.

She tried to pull away from the table to stand up. But a loop of chain secured her chair to the barrel that supported the tabletop, limiting its movement.

If she dug her heels into the vinyl-tile floor and attempted to scoot backward, she would probably not be able to move at all. At best she would only drag the heavy table with her inch by inch. And in a lifetime of trying, she would not be able to put enough tension on the chain to snap it.

She was still adamant in her rejection of surrender—"No, damn it, no way, no"—pressing the words through clenched teeth.

She reached forward, pulling taut the chain that led around her back from the left handcuff to the right. It was wound between the spindles of the rail-back chair, behind the tie-on pad. She strained, hoping to hear the crack of dry wood, jerked hard, harder, and sharp pain sewed a hot seam in her neck; the agony of the clubbing was renewed in her neck and in the right side of her face, but she would not let pain stop her. She jerked harder than ever, scarring the nice furniture for damn sure, and again—pull, pull—firmly holding the chair down with her body while simultaneously half lifting it off the floor as she yanked furiously at the back rails, and yanked again, until her biceps quivered. Pull. As she grunted with effort and frustration, needles of pain stitched down the back of her neck, across both shoulders, and into her arms. Pull! Putting everything she had into the effort, straining longer than before, clenching her teeth so hard that tics developed in her jaw muscles, she pulled once more until she felt the arteries throbbing in her temples and saw red and silver pinwheels of light spinning behind her eyelids. But she wasn't rewarded with any breaking sounds. The chair was solid, the spindles were thick, and every joint was well made.

Her heart boomed, partly because of her struggles but largely because she was brimming with an exhilarating sense of liberation. Which was crazy, crazy, because she was still shackled, no closer to breaking her bonds than she had been at any moment since she'd awakened in this chair. Yet she felt as if she had already escaped and was only waiting for reality to catch up with the freedom that she had willed for herself.

She sat gasping, thinking.

Sweat beaded her brow.

Forget the chair for now. To get loose from it, she would have to be able to stand and move. She couldn't deal with the chair until she was free of the table.

She was unable to reach down far enough to unscrew the carabiner that joined the shorter chain between her ankles to the longer chain that entwined the chair and the table. Otherwise, she might easily have freed her legs from both pieces of furniture.

If she could overturn the table, the loop of chain that wrapped the supporting pedestal and connected with her leg irons would then slide free as the bottom of that barrel tipped up and off the floor. Wouldn't it? Sitting in the dark, she couldn't quite visualize the mechanics of what she was proposing, but she thought that turning the table on its side would work.

Unfortunately, the chair across from hers was an obstruction that would most likely prevent the table from tipping over. She had to get rid of it, clear the way. Shackled as she was, however, and with the barrel pedestal intervening, she couldn't extend her legs far enough to kick at the other chair and knock it aside. Hobbled and tethered, she was also unable to stand and reach across the big round table and simply push the obstruction out of the way.

Finally she tried scooting backward in her chair, hoping to drag the table with her, away from Victor's chair. The chain encircling the pedestal drew taut. As she strained backward, digging her heels into the floor, it seemed that the piece was too heavy to be dragged, and she wondered if the barrel was filled with a bag of sand to keep the table from wobbling. But then it creaked and stuttered a few inches across the vinyl tiles, rattling the glass of water that stood on it.

This was harder work than she had anticipated. She felt as though she were on one of those television shows devoted to stunts and stupid physical challenges, pulling a railroad car. A loaded railroad car. Nevertheless, the table moved grudgingly. In a couple of minutes, after pausing twice to get her breath, she stopped because she was concerned that she might back against the wall between the kitchen and the laundry room; she needed to leave herself some maneuvering space. Although it was difficult to estimate distance in the dark, she believed that she had dragged the table about three feet, far enough to be clear of Victor's chair.

She placed her cuffed hands under the table and lifted. It weighed considerably more than she did—a two-inch pine top, the thick staves in the supporting barrel, the black iron hoops around the staves, perhaps that bag of sand—and she couldn't get much leverage while she was forced to remain seated. The bottom of the barrel tipped up an inch, then two inches. The water glass toppled, spilling its contents, rolled away from her, dropped off the table, and shattered on the floor. All the noise made it seem as if her plan was working—she hissed, "Yes!"—but then because she had underestimated the weight and the effort required to move it, she had to relent, and the barrel slammed down.

Alexis flexed her muscles, took a deep breath, and immediately returned to the task. This time she planted her feet as far apart as her shackles would allow. On the underside of the table, she flattened her upturned palms against the pine, thumbs hooked toward herself over the smooth bull-nose edge. She tensed her legs as well as her arms, and when she shoved up on the table, she pushed with her legs too, getting to her feet an inch at a time, one hard-won inch for each inch that the table tipped up and backward. She did not have enough slack in the various tethering chains to be able to get all the way—or halfway—erect, so she rose haltingly in a stiff and awkward crouch, cramped under the weight of the table. She put enormous strain on her knees and thighs, wheezing, shuddering with the effort, but she persevered because each precious inch that she was able to gain improved her leverage; she was using her entire body to lift, lift, lift.

The pain in her abdomen was excruciating, blood was beginning to seep through the bandages. But pain couldn't stop her. It motivated. The greater her pain, the more she identified with Jena, and Victor's victims, with the young man hanging in the closet, and the more she identified with them, the more she wanted Victor Hartley to suffer a world of hurt. She was in an Old Testament mood, unwilling to turn the other cheek just now. She wanted Victor screaming on a rack, stretched until his joints popped apart and his tendons tore. Alexis wanted to condemn him to the skilled hands of an imaginative torturer, and then see how long the sonofabitch bastard freak remained faithful to his philosophy about all experiences being value neutral, all sensations equally worthwhile. This ardent desire, refined from her pain, was not noble in the least, but it was pure, a high-octane fuel that burned with an intense light, and it kept her motor running.

This side of the barrel pedestal was off the floor perhaps three inches—she could only guess—approximately as high as she had gotten it before, but she still had plenty of steam left. Bent in a backward Z, as hunched as a God-cursed troll, she muscled the table up, knees aching, thighs quivering with the strain, her butt clenched tighter than a politician's fist around a cash bribe. She encouraged herself aloud by talking to the table as if it possessed awareness: "Come on, come on, come on, move, shit, shit, move, you sonofabitch, higher, come on, damn you, damn it, come on."

Initially the chair remained exactly where it had been when her butt parted company with it, but as her arms lifted higher and stretched farther in front of her, the heavy chair was hoisted off the floor by the tightening chain that circled behind her from wrist to wrist and wound through the vertical spindles behind the tie-on pad. Now she was lifting the table in front and the chair at her back. The hard edge of the seat jammed against her thighs, and the curved pine headpiece of the railed back pressed cruelly below her shoulder blades, as the chair began to act like a V-clamp to prevent her from rising much further.

Nevertheless, Alexis squeezed against the table as she lifted it, separating herself from the confining chair enough to be able to rise out of her crouch just one more inch, then one more. At the extreme limits of strength and endurance, she grunted loudly, rhythmically: "Uh, uh, uh, uh!" Sweat glazed her face, stung her eyes, but there was no light in the kitchen anyway, no reason she had to see what she was doing in order to get it done. Her burning eyes didn't bother her, this was small-time pain; but she felt as though she was about to burst a blood vessel from the straining—or throw a clot off an artery wall and recapture it deep in her brain.

Fear was with her again, for the first time in hours, because even as she strained against the table, she couldn't help thinking about what Victor Hartley would do with her if he returned home to find her on the floor, dazed and incoherent from a stroke. With her mind reduced to hasty pudding, she would no longer be the sophisticated toy she had been; she'd be insufficiently responsive to provide him with the requisite thrills when he tortured her.

The table crashed onto its side hard enough to jar the dishes in the kitchen cabinets and rattle a loose pane in a window.

Though she had been striving fiercely for precisely this result, she was so surprised by her abrupt success that she didn't cry out in triumph. She leaned against the curve of the tilted table and gasped for breath.

Half a minute later, when she tried to pull away, she discovered that the chain was still wrapped tightly around the barrel pedestal and that she remained encumbered.

She attempted to tug it loose. No luck.

Dropping to her hands and knees, carrying the chair on her back, she reached under the canted table, as though she were at the seashore and seeking shade beneath a giant beach umbrella. In the darkness she felt around the bottom of the barrel that served as the pedestal, and she discovered that this part of the job was not yet finished.

The table was tipped on its side—like a mushroom with a large cap, stem meeting the floor at an angle. Given the position from which she'd had to work, she had not been able to tip it completely over, with the pedestal straight up in the air. The bottom of the barrel, recessed inside a chime hoop, was fully exposed; however, the tethering chain was trapped in the angle between the floor and the side of the barrel.

Lifting the chair with her, Alexis struggled to her feet but rose only to a crouch. She reached down with both hands, hooked her fingers around the chime hoop, paused to gather her strength, and pulled upward.

Her sweaty hands slipped on the painted iron hoop. She stubbed the fingertips of her right hand hard against the rough bottom of the barrel, that she cried out in dazzled agony.

For a while she hunched over, protectively holding her injured hand against her breast, waiting for the pain to subside. Eventually it faded somewhat.

After blotting her hands on her jeans, she hooked her fingers around the chime hoop once more, hesitated, heaved, and the barrel pedestal came off the floor half an inch, an inch. With her left foot, she pawed at the loop of chain until she thought it was free, and then she let the pedestal drop to the floor again.

She scooted backward in her chair, and this time nothing impeded her. The loop of chain rattled across the floor, no longer anchoring her to the table.

Her chair bumped into the wall that separated the kitchen from the laundry room. She hitched sideways, out from behind the table, toward the window, which was but a faint gray rectangle between the blackness of the unlighted kitchen and the slightly less dark night.

Although Alexis was far from being free, farther still from being safe, she was exhilarated, because at least she had done something. A headache like an endless incoming tide throbbed in waves across her brow and along her right temple, and the pain in her neck was savage. Her swollen index finger was a world of misery in itself. In spite of her thick socks, her ankles felt as though they had been bruised and abraded by the shackles, and her left wrist stung where she had skinned it while trying to yank the spindles out of the back of the chair. Her joints ached and her muscles burned from the demands she had put on them, and she had a stitch in her left side that was pulling like a needle threaded with hot wire—yet she was grinning and exhilarated.

When she was beside the window, she let the legs of her chair touch the floor. She sat down.

As her heartbeat slowed from its frenzied hammering, Alexis leaned back against the cushion, still breathing hard, and surprised herself by laughing. Musical, unexpectedly girlish laughter burst from her, an astonishing giggle part delight, part nervous relief.

She blotted her sweat-stung eyes on one sleeve of her cotton sweater, and then on the other sleeve. With her cuffed hands, she awkwardly smoothed her short hair back from her brow, across which it had fallen in damp licks.

As a softer, more subdued trill of laughter bubbled from her, Alexis detected movement out of the corner of her right eye. She turned to the window, happily thinking, The elk.

A Walker was snarling at her.

Few stars and, as yet, no moon shone between the torn clouds, and the Walker was oil black. Yet it was clearly visible, because her face was only inches from hers, with nothing between them except the glass. Its eyes were cold and merciless, sharklike in their steadiness and glassy concentration.

A thin whine escaped the Walker, audible even through the glass: a needful keening that perfectly expressed the killing passion in its eyes.

Alexis was no longer laughing.

Perhaps the sound of the water glass shattering on the floor or the crash of the table tipping onto its side had carried into the backyard, and this Walker had been close enough to hear. The Walker might have been standing at this window for a while, listening to Alexis alternately cursing her bonds and encouraging herself as she had struggled to be free of the table; and certainly it had heard her laughter.

The window was about five or six feet long and four feet high, divided into two sliding panels. Obviously not part of the original architecture, it appeared to have been installed during a relatively recent remodel. If there had been numerous smaller panes separated by wide sturdy mullions of wood, Alexis would have been a lot more confident. But either of the two sheets of glass was large enough to admit the agitated Walker if it tried to smash through at her.

Surely it wouldn't come to that.

Rather than make any sudden provocative movements, Alexis waited until the Walker moved away from the window before she reached to the floor and picked up the loop of excess chain to avoid tripping over it. Listening to the Walker marching back and forth on the porch, she rose into the Rumpelstiltskin crouch that the burdening chair imposed. She edged around the kitchen, staying close to the walls and cabinets, feeling her way as best she could while cuffed and holding the loop of chain in one hand. She shuffled her feet more than her shackles required, hoping to shove the broken drinking glass aside rather than step on them.

When she reached the doorway between the kitchen and the front room, she found the light switches but was reluctant to flip them up. Glancing back and seeing the Walker at the window again, she wished that she could leave the kitchen dark.

She needed to search the drawers, however, so she snapped on the overhead lights.

Ignoring the Walker, Alexis bent forward as far as her fetters would allow, hoisting the chair on her back. She strove to reach the carabiner that linked the shorter chain between her leg irons with the longer chain that had encircled the table pedestal and that still wrapped the stretcher bars of the chair. But even free of the table, she was trammeled in such a way that she could not put her fingers on this coupling.

She retraced her path along the cabinets. She opened one drawer after another and studied the contents. Nothing she could use.

She opened a few of the cupboard doors and peered into cabinets, but she found only pots, pans, dishes, and glasses.

She continued opening drawers. In the fourth, she discovered a compartmentalized plastic tray containing a collection of small culinary tools and gadgets.

She parked the chair beside the open drawer and sat down. She plucked a wooden-handled corkscrew from the drawer, examined the spiraling point, and discarded it. A bottle opener. No. Potato peeler. Lemon-rind shaver. No. She found an eight-inch-long pair of heavy-duty tweezers, which Victor probably used to extract olives and pickles and similar items from tightly packed jars. The gripping blades of the tweezers proved too large to be inserted into the tight keyholes on her handcuffs, so she discarded them as well.

Then she located the ideal item: a five-inch-long steel pin, which she believed was called a poultry strut. A dozen were fixed together by a tightly wound rubber band, and she pulled one loose. The pin was rigid, about a sixteenth of an inch in diameter, with a point at the end of the shank and a half-inch-wide eye loop at the top. Smaller struts were made for pinning shut roasting chickens, but this one was for turkeys.

The thought of succulent roasted turkey brought the smell of it immediately to mind. Alexis's mouth watered, and her stomach growled.

She held the strut between the thumb and the index finger of her right hand, and slipped the point into the keyway on the left handcuff. Probing experimentally, she produced a lot of small ticking and scraping sounds, trying to feel the lock mechanism in the gateway of the cuff.

She remembered a movie in which the greatest psychotic killer and criminal genius of his age fashioned a handcuff key out of the metal ink tube from a ballpoint pen and an ordinary paper clip. He sprang one cuff and then the other in about fifteen seconds, maybe ten, after which he overpowered his two guards, killed them, and cut the face off one to wear as a disguise, although he used a penknife for the surgery, not the homemade handcuff key. Over the years, she had seen many other movies in which prisoners picked open cuffs and leg irons, and none of them had any more training for it than she did.

Ten minutes later, with her left cuff still securely locked, Alexis said, "Movies are full of shit."

She was so frustrated that her hand trembled and she couldn't control the strut. It jittered uselessly in the tight keyway.

Alexis switched the strut to her left hand and worked on the right cuff for a while. Ticks, clicks, scrapes, and squeaks. She was concentrating so intently on picking the tiny lock that she was sweating as copiously as when she had been struggling to overturn the heavy table.

Finally she threw the turkey strut on the floor, and it bounced ping-ping-ping across the tiles, and off a shard of the water glass.

Perhaps she could have freed herself in a wink if she had been the greatest psychotic killer and criminal genius of her age. But she was only an attorney.

Even as inconveniently sane and law-abiding as she was, she might be able to pop the handcuffs off her wrists and the larger shackles off her ankles with a more suitable tool than the turkey strut, but she would probably need hours to do it. She couldn't dedicate hours solely to the job of freeing herself from the chair and chains, because once she was unfettered, there were many other urgent tasks to be done before Victor returned.

She slammed the drawer shut. Holding the chain out of her way and hauling the chair with her, she got to her feet.

With a jangle worthy of the Ghost of Christmas Past, Alexis went to the door between the kitchen and the living room.

Behind her, at the window in the dining area, a weird screeching arose. She looked back and saw that the Walker was scratching frantically at the glass with her fingers. Her nails squeaked down the pane with a sound as unsettling as fingernails dragged across a chalkboard.

She had intended to find her way into the dark living room by the light spilling through the open door, but the Walker spooked her. While she'd picked at the cuff locks, the Walker had grown slightly calmer, but now it was as disturbed as ever. Hoping to calm it before it decided to spring through the window, she turned off the overhead fluorescent panels.

Squeak-squeak-squeak.

Fingers, glass.

Squeak-squeak.

She eased across the threshold, leaving the kitchen, and pushed the door shut behind her, blocking out the squeaking. Blocking out the damn Walker as well, in case it proved to be crazed enough to burst through the glass.

She felt along the wall. Evidently the only switches were on the other side of the room, by the front door.

The living room seemed to be blacker than the kitchen. The drapes were drawn over one of the two expansive windows that faced onto the front porch. The other window was a barely defined gray rectangle that admitted no more light than had the double-pane slider in the kitchen.

Alexis stood motionless, taking time to orient herself. She hobbled warily through the darkness, afraid of falling over a chair or a footstool or a magazine rack. Swaddled in chains and under the weight of the chair, she would be unable to check her fall in a natural manner and might be so twisted by her shackles that she would break an ankle or even a leg.

The first thing she bumped into was the sofa, and she did not fall. Sliding her hand along the upholstered back, she sidled to the left until she came to the end table. She reached out and found the lamp shade, the wire ribs beneath the taut cloth.

She fumbled around the shell of the socket and then around the base of the lamp itself. As her fingers finally pinched the rotary switch, she was suddenly certain that a strong hand was going to come out of the darkness and cover hers, that Victor had crept back into the house, that he was sitting on the sofa only inches from her. With amusement, he had been listening to her struggles, sitting like a fat, patient spider in his tartan-plaid web, anticipating the pleasure of shattering her hopes when at last she hobbled this far. The light would blink on, and Victor would smile and wink at her and say, Naughty girl.

The switch was a nub of ice between thumb and finger. Frozen to her skin.

Heart drumming so hard that it prevented her lungs from expanding, the pulse in her throat swelling so large that she was unable to swallow, Alexis broke her paralysis and clicked the switch. Soft light washed the room. Victor was not on the sofa. Not in an armchair. Not anywhere in the room. She exhaled explosively, with a shudder that rattled her chains, and leaned against the sofa, and gradually her heart grew calmer.

After those gray hours of depression during which she had been emotionally dead, she was energized by this siege of terror. Fear proved that she had come back to life and that she had found hope again.

She shambled to the gray river-rock fireplace that extended from floor to ceiling across the entire north wall of the room. The deep hearth in the center wasn't raised, which would make her work easier.

She had considered going down to the cellar, where during her previous time here she had seen a workbench, to examine the saws that were surely in Victor's tool collection. But she had quickly ruled out that solution.

Descending the steep cellar steps while hobbled, festooned with steel chains, and carrying the heavy pine chair on her back would be a stunt not quite equivalent to leaping the Snake River Gorge on a rocket-powered motorcycle, perhaps, but undeniably risky. She was moderately confident of making her way to the bottom without pitching forward and cracking her skull like an eggshell on the concrete or breaking a leg in thirty-six places—but far from entirely confident. Her strength wasn't what it ought to have been, because she hadn't eaten much in the past twenty-four hours and because she had already been through an exhausting physical ordeal. Furthermore, all her separate pains made her shaky. A trip to the cellar seemed simple enough, but under these circumstances, it would be equivalent to an acrobat slugging down four double martinis before walking the high wire.

Besides, even if she could find a sharp-toothed saw small enough to be easily handled, she wouldn't be able to use it at an angle that would allow her to bear down with effective force. To free the lower chain from the chair, she would have to cut through all three of the horizontal stretcher bars between the chair legs, each of which was an inch or an inch and a half in diameter, around which the links were wound. To accomplish this, she would have to sit, bend forward, and saw backward under the chair. Even if the upper chain had sufficient slack to allow her to reach down far enough for the task, which she doubted, she would only be able to scrape feebly at the wood. With luck, she'd whittle through the third stretcher sometime in the late spring. Then she would have to turn her attention to the five sturdy spindles in the back of the chair to free the upper chain, and not even a carnival contortionist born with rubber bones could get at them with a saw while pinioned as Alexis was.

Hacking through the steel chains was impossible. She would be able to get at them from an angle better than that from which she could approach the stretcher bars between the chair legs. But Victor wasn't likely to own saw blades that could carve through steel, and Alexis definitely didn't have the necessary strength.

She was resigned to more primitive measures than saws. And she was worried about the potential for injury and about how painful the process of liberation might be.

On the mantel, the bronze stags leaped perpetually, antlers to antlers, over the round white face of the clock.

Eight minutes past seven.

She had almost five hours until Victor returned.

Or maybe not.

He had said that he would be back as soon after midnight as possible, but Alexis had no reason to suppose that he'd been telling the truth. He might return at ten o'clock. Or eight o'clock. Or ten minutes from now.

She shuffled onto the floor-level flagstone hearth and then to the right, past the firebox and the brass andiron, past the deep mantel. The entire wall flanking the fireplace was smooth gray river rock—just the hard surface that she needed.

Alexis stood with her left side toward the rock, twisted her upper body to the left as far as possible without turning her feet, in the manner of an Olympic athlete preparing to toss a discus, and then swung sharply and forcefully to the right. This maneuver threw the chair—on her back—in the opposite direction from her body and slammed it into the wall. It clattered against the rock, rebounded with a ringing of chains, and thudded against her hard enough to hurt her shoulder, ribs, and hip. She tried the same trick again, putting even more energy into it, but after the second time, she was able to judge by the sound that she would, at best, scar the finish and chip a few slivers out of the pine. Hundreds of these lame blows might demolish the chair in time, turn it into kindling; but before she hammered it against the rock that often, suffering the recoil each time, she would be a bruised and bloodied mess, and her bones would splinter, and her joints would separate like the links in a pop-bead necklace.

By swinging the chair as though she were a dog wagging its tail, she couldn't get the requisite force behind it. She had been afraid of this. As far as she could determine, there was only one other approach that might work—but she didn't like it.

Alexis looked at the mantel clock. Only two minutes had passed since the last time she'd glanced at it.

Two minutes was nothing if she had until midnight, but it was a disastrous waste of time if Victor was on his way home right now. He might be turning off the public road, through the gate, into his long private driveway this very moment, the lying bastard, having set her up to believe that he would be gone until after midnight, then sneaking back early to—

She was baking a nourishing loaf of panic, plump and yeasty, and if she allowed herself to eat a single slice, then she'd gorge on it. This was an appetite she didn't dare indulge. Panic wasted time and energy.

She must remain calm.

To free herself from the chair, she needed to use her body as if it were a pneumatic ram, and she would have to endure serious pain. She was already in severe pain, but what was coming would be worse—devastating—and it scared her.

Turning her back to the river-rock wall, she shuffled six feet from it, stopped, closed her eyes, and gathered her courage.

Possibly one of the spindles in the rail-back chair would crack apart and be driven forward. The splintered end would puncture the tie-on cushion or slip past it and then skewer her, back to front, straight through her guts.

More likely, she'd sustain a spinal injury. With all the force of the impact directed against the lower half of the chair, the legs of it would be driven into her legs; the upper half would first pull away from her—then recoil and snap hard against her upper back or neck. The spindles were fixed between the seat and the wide slab of radius-cut pine that served as the headrail, and the headrail was so solid that it would do major damage if it cracked into her cervical vertebrae with sufficient force. She might wind up on the living-room floor, under the chair and chains, paralyzed from the neck down.

No. No, she could do this.

She had been surviving for a long time.

Eternity. And she would survive this too—or die trying.

Without opening her eyes, Alexis hurtled backward as fast as her leg irons would allow, and in spite of her fear, she figured that she must be at least a somewhat comic sight, because she had to shuffle frantically to build speed, had to throw herself toward spinal injury in quick little baby steps. But then she slammed into the rocks, and there was nothing whatsoever funny about that.

She'd been bent forward slightly to lift the legs of the chair behind her and to ensure that they, rather than another part of it, would strike first and take the hard initial blow. With her entire weight behind the assault, there was a satisfyingly splintery thwack on impact—and the pine legs were jammed painfully into the backs of her legs. Alexis stumbled forward, and the upper part of the chair whiplashed into her neck, as she had expected, and she was knocked off balance. She dropped to her knees on the flagstone hearth and fell forward with the chair still on her back, hurting in too many places to bother taking an inventory.

Hobbled, she couldn't get to her feet unless she was gripping something. She crawled to the nearest armchair and pulled herself up, grunting with effort and pain.

She didn't like pain the way Victor claimed to like it, but she wasn't going to bitch about it either. At least she could still crawl and stand. No spinal injury yet. Better to feel pain than nothing at all.

The legs of the chair and the stretcher bars between the legs seemed to be intact. But judging by the sound of the impact, she had weakened them.

Starting eight feet from the wall this time, Alexis shuffled backward as fast as she could, trying to ram the chair legs into the rock at the same angle as before. She was rewarded with a distinctive crack—the sound of splintering wood, though it felt like shattering bone.

A dam of pain burst inside her. Cold currents dragged her down, but she resisted the undertow with the desperate determination of a swimmer struggling against a drowning darkness.

She hadn't been knocked off her feet this time. She shuffled forward. Not pausing to catch her breath, still hunched to ensure that the chair legs would take the brunt of the impact, she charged backward into the rock wall.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis woke facedown on the floor in front of the hearth, aware that she must have been unconscious for a minute or two.

The carpet was as cold and undulant as moving water. She wasn't floating in it but glimmering along the rippled surface, as though she were coppery spangles of sunlight or the dark reflection of a cloud.

The worst pain was in the back of her head. She must have struck it against something.

She felt so much better when she didn't think about her pain or her problems, when she simply accepted that she was nothing more than a cloud shadow riding on the mirrored surface of a rolling river, as insubstantial as the purling patterns on moving water, gliding away, liquid and cool, away, away.

Somehow she got to her hands and knees.

She heard the hollow thump of paws on the front porch floor.

When she pulled herself to her feet against an armchair, she looked at the window that wasn't covered by drapes. The Walker was standing with her hands on the windowsill, staring at her, her eyes radiant yellow with reflections of the soft amber light from the lamp on the end table.

At the base of the stone wall was one of the rear legs of the chair. That length of turned pine was all jagged splinters at the thicker end, where it had been fixed to the underside of the seat. Bristling from the side of it at a ninety-degree angle was the one-inch stretcher bar that had connected it to the other rear leg.

The lower chain was more than half free.

She worked the upper chain to the left through the spindles at her back, drawing her right hand behind her head, to provide as much slack as possible for her left hand. Then she reached down to her left, under the chair arm and then under the thick slab seat, feeling for the legs. The left rear leg was gone, obviously the one on the floor by the wall. The side stretcher still extended from the left front leg, but with the rear leg gone, it no longer connected to anything, and the chain had slipped off it.

When she worked the upper chain to the right, to be able to feel under the chair with that hand, she discovered that the other rear leg was slightly loose. She pulled, pushed, and twisted, trying to break it off. But she couldn't get adequate leverage, and the leg was still too firmly attached to succumb to her efforts.

No stretcher bar had ever linked the two front legs. Now the lower chain was prevented from slipping entirely free only by the stretcher bar between the legs on the right side.

Once more she charged backward hard, into the rock. Blazing pain exploded through her entire body, and she was almost blown away. But when the right rear leg didn't snap loose, she said, "Hell, no," refusing to surrender to hurt, to exhaustion, to anything, anything, and she hobbled forward and then launched herself backward once more. Wood split with a dry crackle, broken turnings of pine clattered off flagstones, and with a bright ringing, the lower chain fell free of the chair.

Bending forward, dizzy, filled with a whirling darkness, shaking violently, she leaned with both hands on the back of the big leather armchair. She was half sick with pain and with fear of what damage she might have done to her body, wondering about fractured vertebrae and internal bleeding.

Squeak-squeak-squeak.

The Walker clawed at the window glass.

Squeak-squeak.

Alexis wasn't free yet. She was still chained to the upper half of the chair.

The four spindles between the headrail and the seat were thinner than the stretcher bars between the legs, so they ought to break more easily than those bars had broken. She hadn't been able to keep the chair legs from mercilessly hammering the backs of her knees and her thighs, but for this part of the operation, the tie-on foam cushion between her and the spindles should provide her with some protection.

A pair of floor-to-ceiling rock pilasters flanked the firebox and supported the six-inch slab of laminated maple that served as the mantel. They were curved, and it seemed to Alexis that the radius would help focus the impact on one or two spindles at a time instead of spreading it across the four.

She moved the heavy andiron out of the way. She pushed aside a brass rack of fireplace tools. The lifting and shoving made her head spin and her stomach churn, and a hundred agonies assailed her.

She no longer dared to think about what she was doing. She just did it, past courage now, past consideration and calculation, driven by a blind animal determination to be free.

This time, she didn't hunch over; as far as she was able, she stood straight and rammed backward into the pilaster. The cushion did provide protection, but not enough. She was suffering so many contusions, wrenched muscles, and battered bones that the jarring blow would have been devastating even if it had been twice as well padded, like the tap of a dentist's rubber hammer on a rotten tooth in need of a root-canal job. Right now every joint in her body seemed to be a rotten tooth. She didn't pause, because she was afraid that all of those pains, pulsing at once, would soon shake her to the floor, shake her apart, so she would never be able to pull herself together and get up. She was rapidly running out of resources, and with a black tide lapping at the edges of her vision, she was also running out of time. Howling with misery in expectation of the pain, she rammed backward and screamed when the blow rattled her bones like dice in a cup. Agony. But immediately she threw herself into the pilaster again, chains jangling, and again, wood splintering, and again, screaming, Jesus, unable to stop screaming and frightened by her own cries, while the vigilant Walker made that needful keening at the window, and yet once more backward, hammering herself into the rock.

Then she was again facedown on the floor without remembering how she had gotten there, racked by dry heaves because there was nothing in her stomach to throw up, gagging on a vile taste in the back of her mouth, hands clenched against the very thought of defeat, feeling small and weak and pitiful, shuddering, shuddering.

The shudders gradually diminished, however, and the carpet began to undulate, pleasantly cool beneath her, and she was a cloud shadow on fast-moving waters. The sun-haloed shadow and the fathomless water moved in the same direction, always in the same direction, onward and forever, swift and silken, toward the edge of the world and then off into a void, flowing still, so dark.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Expecting Walkers, Alexis woke from red dreams of refrigerator-chilled guns and exploding heads, but there were no Walkers. She was alone in the living room, and all was quiet. The Walker was not pacing back and forth on the porch, and when she was finally able to lift her head, she saw no Walker at the undraped window.

She was outside, calmer now because she realized that her time would come. Watching the door and windows. Waiting to see her face. Alert for the snick of a latch, the rasp of a hinge.

Alexis was in so much pain that she was surprised to have regained consciousness. She was more surprised that her head was clear.

One pain was separate from and more urgent than all her other distresses. Unlike the agonies of tortured bones and muscles, this painful pressure could be relieved easily, and she wouldn't even have to put herself through the gruesome ordeal of moving from where she lay.

"Hell no," she mumbled, and slowly she sat up.

Getting to her feet, she disturbed deep hurts that had slept as long as she had been lying on the floor but woke as soon as she began to rise: grindings in her bones and hot flares in her muscles. Some were intense enough, at least initially, to make her freeze and gasp for breath, but by the time she was standing tall, she knew there was no single pain so terrible that it would cripple her; and while the burden of her combined agonies was daunting, she was going to be able to carry it.

She didn't have to carry the heavy chair any longer. It lay on the floor around her in fragments and splinters, and none of her chains was encumbered by it.

According to the mantel clock, the time was three minutes till eight, which unsettled her. The last she remembered, it had been ten minutes past seven. She wasn't sure how long she had taken to break free from the chair, but she suspected that she had lain unconscious for half an hour, perhaps longer. The sweat had dried on her body, and her hair was only slightly damp at the nape of her neck, so half an hour was probably correct. This realization made her feel weak and uncertain again.

If Victor could be believed, Alexis still had four hours until he returned. But there was much to be done, and four hours might not be time enough.

Alexis sat on the edge of the sofa. Freed from the pine dining chair, she was at last able to reach the carabiner on the short chain between her ankles. This steel coupling connected the shorter chain to the longer one that had wrapped the chair and the table pedestal. After screwing open the metal sleeve to reveal the gate in the carabiner, she disconnected herself from the longer chain.

Her ankles remained cuffed, and on her way to the stairs to the second floor, she still had to shuffle.

She switched on the stairwell light and laboriously climbed the narrow stairs, moving first her left foot and then her right onto each tread. Because of the hobbling chain, she was unable to ascend one foot per tread, step over step, as she normally would have done, and her progress was slow.

She kept a two-hand grip on the handrail. With the heavy chair gone from her back, she was no longer precariously balanced, but she remained wary of tripping in her fetters.

Past the landing, halfway up the second flight, all of her pains and the fear of falling and the hot pressure in her bladder combined to double her over with severe stomach cramps. She leaned against the wall of the stairwell, clutching the handrail, suddenly sheathed in sour sweat, moaning low and wordlessly in misery. She was certain that she was going to pass out, tumble backward, and break her neck.

But the cramps passed, and she continued climbing. Soon she reached the second floor.

She switched on the hall light and found three doors. Those to the left and right were closed, but the one at the end of the hallway stood open, revealing a bathroom.

In the bathroom, although her hands were manacled and trembling badly, she managed to unbuckle her belt, unbutton her jeans, unzip, and skin down jeans and panties. Sitting, she was hit by more waves of cramps, and these were markedly more vicious than those she had endured on the stairs. She had refused to wet herself at the kitchen table, as Victor had wanted her to do, refused to be reduced to that degree of helplessness. Now she couldn't make water, though she desperately wanted to do that—needed to do it to stop the cramps—and she wondered if she had held out so long that a bladder spasm was pinching off the flow. Such a thing was possible, and abruptly the cramps grew more severe, as if confirming her diagnosis. She felt as if her guts were being rolled through a wringer—but then the cramps passed and relief came.

"Rot in Hell," she said to Victor, and she hoped that someday she would have the chance to say it to his face just before she pulled a trigger and blew him out of this world.

She had so much pain in her back from the battering that she'd endured, especially low around her kidneys, that when she was done, she checked in the toilet bowl for blood. She was relieved to see that her urine was clear.

From the medicine cabinet, she withdrew the package of gauze pads, the roll of cloth tape, and the scissors.

In the bathroom, she lowered the toilet lid and sat down. She lifted her shirt. Her bandages were sodden with blood, and she peeled it off.

"Fuck,"

The wound was beginning to drain yellow fluid. Red streaking of the skin around the wound indicated an infection in the system that drained fluid from the tissues.

She quickly pressed a double thickness of gauze pads over the seeping lines and fixed them in place with a length of cloth tape. By tightening the tape to apply a little pressure, she might be able to make the bleeding slow or stop.

Glancing in the mirror above the sink, however, she was shocked by her reflection. Her short hair was tangled and lank with sweat. The right side of her face along the jaw seemed to be smeared with a purple ink, but when she touched it, she discovered that this was the trailing edge of a bruise that mottled that entire side of her neck. Where it wasn't bruised or smeared with dirt, her skin was gray and grainy, as if she had been suffering through a long and difficult illness. Her right eye was fiery, no white visible any more: just the dark iris and the darker pupil floating in an elliptical pool of blood. Both the bloodied eye and the clear left eye gazed back at her with a haunted expression so unnerving that she turned away from her own reflection in confusion and fear.

The face in the mirror was that of a woman who had already lost some battle. It wasn't the face of a winner.

Alexis tried to press that dispiriting thought out of her mind at once. What she had seen was the face of a fighter—no longer the face of a mere survivor, but a fighter. Every fighter sustained some punishment, both physical and emotional. Without anguish and agony, there was no hope of winning.

She shuffled from the bathroom to the door on the right side of the upstairs hall, which opened onto Victor's bedroom.

Alexis checked the nightstand drawers for a gun but didn't find one.

The large walk-in closet was ten feet deep and as wide as the bedroom, essentially a room of its own. At a glance, the closet held nothing useful to her. She was sure to discover something worthwhile if she searched, maybe even a well-hidden gun. But there were built-in cabinets with laden shelves and packed drawers, and boxes were stacked on boxes; she would need hours to pore through everything. More urgent tasks awaited her.

She emptied the dresser drawers on the floor, but they contained only socks, underwear, sweaters, sweatshirts, and a few rolled belts. No guns.

Before leaving the second floor, she turned off all the lights. If Victor came home early, the lights would warn him that something was amiss. He would be lulled by darkness, however, and as he crossed the threshold, she might have one last chance to kill him.

One tread at a time, balanced against the handrail, as fast as she dared, Alexis went down to the living room. The Walker wasn't at the undraped window.

The mantel clock put the time at twenty-two minutes past eight, and suddenly the night seemed to be a sled on a slope of ice, picking up speed.

She extinguished the lamp and shuffled through darkness to the kitchen. There she turned on the fluorescent lights, only to avoid tripping in the debris, falling, and cutting herself on broken glass.

The Walker wasn't on the back porch either. At the window, only the night waited.

Entering the windowless laundry room, she shut off the kitchen lights behind her and pulled the door shut.

Down to the cellar, then, to the workbench and cabinets that she had remember seeing when she was first brought here years ago.

In the tall metal cabinets with the vent slits in the doors, she found cans of paint and lacquer, paintbrushes, and drop cloths folded as precisely as fine linen sheets. One entire cabinet was filled with thick pads from which dangled black leather straps with chrome-plated buckles; she didn't have any idea what they were, and she left them undisturbed. In the final cabinet, Victor stored several power tools, including an electric drill.

In one of the drawers on the big wheeled tool chest, she located an extensive collection of drill bits in three clear plastic boxes. She also found a pair of Plexiglas safety goggles.

A power strip with eight outlets was attached to the wall behind the workbench, but a duplex receptacle was also available low on the wall beside the bench. She needed the lower outlet, because it allowed her to sit on the floor.

Although the drill bits weren't labeled except as to size, Alexis figured that they were all meant for woodworking and would not bore easily—if at all—through steel. She didn't want to pierce the steel anyway; she wanted only to screw up the lock mechanisms on her leg irons enough to spring them open.

She chose a bit approximately the size of the leg-iron keyway, fitted it into the chuck, and tightened it. When she held the drill in both hands and squeezed the trigger, it issued a shrill whine. The spiral throat of the slender bit spun so fast that it blurred until it seemed as smooth and harmless as the shank.

Alexis released the trigger, set the silent drill aside on the floor, and put on the protective goggles. She was disconcerted by the thought that Victor had worn these goggles. Strangely, she expected that everything she saw through them would be distorted, as if the molecules of the lenses had been transformed by the magnetic power with which Victor drew all the sights of his world to his eyes.

But what she saw through the goggles was no different from what she saw without them, although her field of vision was circumscribed by the frames.

She picked up the drill with both hands again and inserted the tip of the bit into the keyway on the shackle that encircled her left ankle. When she pressed the trigger, steel spun against steel with a hellish shriek. The bit stuttered violently, jumped out of the keyway, and skipped across the two-inch-wide shackle, spitting tiny sparks. If her reflexes hadn't been good, the whirling auger would have bored through her foot, but she released the trigger and jerked up on the drill just in time to avoid disaster.

The lock might have been damaged. She couldn't be sure. But it was still engaged, and the shackle was secure.

She inserted the bit into the keyway again. She gripped the drill tighter than before and bore down with more effort to keep the bit from kicking out of the hole. Steel shrieked, shrieked, and blue wisps of foul-smelling smoke rose from the grinding point, and the vibrating shackle pressed painfully into her ankle in spite of the intervening sock. The drill shook in her hands, which were suddenly damp with cold sweat from the strain of controlling it. A spray of metal slivers swirled up from the keyway, spattered her face. The bit snapped, and the broken-off end zinged past her head, rang off the concrete-block wall hard enough to take a chip out of it, and clinked like a half-spent bullet across the cellar floor.

Her left cheek stung, and she found a splinter of steel embedded in her flesh. It was about a quarter of an inch long and as thin as a sliver of glass. She was able to grasp it between her fingernails and pluck it free. The tiny puncture was bleeding; she had blood on her fingertips and felt a thin warm trickle making its way down her face to the corner of her mouth.

She freed the shank of the broken bit from the drill and threw it aside. She selected a slightly larger bit and tightened it into the jaws of the chuck.

Again, she drilled the keyway. The shackle around her left ankle popped open. Not more than a minute later, the lock on the other shackle cracked too.

Alexis put the drill aside and rose shakily to her feet, every muscle in her legs trembling. She was shaky not because of her many pains, not because of her hunger and weakness, but because she had freed herself from the shackles after having been in despair only a couple of hours before. She had freed herself.

She was still handcuffed, however, and she could not hold the drill one-handed while she bored out the lock on each manacle. But she already had an idea about how she might extricate her hands. But it was risky. If she failed, it would only prolong her suffering.

Although other challenges faced her in addition to the manacles, although escape was by no means assured, jubilation swelled in Alexis as she climbed the cellar steps. She went tread over tread, not one step at a time as the shackles had required, bounding up the stairs in spite of her weakness and the tremors in her muscles, without even using the handrail, to the landing, into the laundry room, past the washer and dryer.

She stood at the threshold until her breathing quieted, but she was unable to quiet her heart, which had been thundering with excitement and with the steepness of the stairs but now pounded with fear of Victor. She listened at the door for a while, heard nothing over the thudding in her breast, and turned the knob as stealthily as possible.

The hinges operated smoothly, soundlessly, and the door opened into the kitchen, which was as dark as she had left it. She found the light switch, hesitated, flipped it up—and Victor was not waiting for her.

As long as she lived, would she ever again be able to go through a doorway without flinching?

From a drawer where earlier Alexis had seen a set of cutlery, she extracted a butcher knife with a well-worn walnut handle. She put it on the counter near the sink.

She got a drinking glass from another cabinet, filled it from the 5 gallon water jug dispenser, and drank the entire glassful in long swallows before lowering it from her lips. Nothing she had ever drunk had been half as delicious as those eight ounces.

In the cabinet, she found an unopened can of fruit cocktail with extra cherries. She peeled back the metal lid and dug the fruit out with her fingers. She stood over the sink, eating voraciously, stuffing her mouth until her cheeks bulged, greedily licking syrup from her lips.

She was in an uncommon state of mind as she ate: now moaning with delight, now half choking with laughter, now gagging and on the verge of tears, now laughing again.

She had come so far. Yet she had so far to go. That was the nature of the journey.

From the spice rack she removed the bottle of aspirin. She shook two tablets into the palm of her hand, but she didn't chew them. She drew another glass of water and took the aspirin, then took two more.

She sang, "I did it my way," from Sinatra's standard, and then added, "took the fucking aspirin my way."She laughed and ate more fruit cocktail, and for a moment she felt crazy with accomplishment.

Walker's out there in the night, she reminded herself, Walker's in the darkness, rotten bastards with nasty teeth and eyes black like sharks eyes.

At a key organizer next to the spice rack, the keys to the motor home hung from one of the four pegs; the other pegs were empty. Victor would be careful with the keys to the handcuffs and would no doubt keep them on him at all times.

She glanced over to the stove. A cast iron skillet was resting on a back burner.

"Oh, God, I don't want to do this," she murmured.

The yard beyond the porch was dark, and the meadow beyond the yard seemed as black as the far side of the moon. The Walker might be standing out there, watching her silhouette in the lighted windows. In fact, she might be waiting just beyond the porch balustrade, crouched and ready to spring.

She glanced at the clock.

Ten thirty-eight.

"Oh, God, I don't want to do this," she murmured again.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Throughout the last few hours of the journey, Victor left the stereo off, although not because he was afraid that music will draw Walkers. In fact, he rarely listened to the stereo while driving. In his memory is a vast library of recordings of the music that he likes best: the cries and squeals, the prayerful whispers, the shrieks as thin as paper cuts, the pulsatory sobbings for mercy, and the erotic inducements of final desperations.

Victor drove up a modest incline, between looming ranks of tall pines, spruces, scattered firs, and then the trees recede a little, and he crosses the bald hilltop. The road descended easily, in a graceful curve, into a small vale, with the house at the end and the hills rising behind in the sheeting rain and morning fog.

His heart swelled at the sight of home. Home is where his Lexi patiently awaits.

The two-story house was small but solidly built of logs mortared with cement. The old logs are nearly black with layers of pitch; and time has darkened the cement to a tobacco brown, except for the tan and gray mottling of recent repairs.

Victor had owned the house for six years. Upon purchasing the place, he rewired it, improved the plumbing, enlarged the second-floor bathroom. And, entirely on his own, of course, he undertook extensive remodeling work in the basement.

To some, the property may seem isolated. But for Victor, whose pleasures would never be understood by most neighbors, relative isolation is the fundamental requirement when he shopped for real estate.

Before the virus, in good weather, Victor liked to take his dinner and a couple of beers on the porch. When the mountain silences become boring, he allowed himself to hear the voices of those who are buried in the field: their groveling and lamentations, the music that he prefers to any on his CD.

Switching off the engine, he descended from the Honda and walked through the soggy grass to the old log house and climbed a set of fieldstone steps to the front porch.

He unlocked the front door and entered the house. He closed and locked the door behind him before walking toward the kitchen.

He flipped on the kitchen light.

"I missed you."

Alexis sat hunched forward on the table, unmoving.

"I brought a few things to show you."

He paused. Very still.

Then he walked to the small shard of glass on the floor, stooped, and picked it up.

He quickly stood and grabbed Alexis by the hair and was caught by surprise. The woman he had grasped by the hair wasn't Alexis, it was nothing more than a mere Walker. A decoy.

Before he could do little more than raise a protective arm, Alexis whipped around the corner, skillet held high, screaming. "Surprise!"

She bashed him hard over the head with the skillet.

He collapsed onto the floor and rolled laboriously onto his back. She raised the skillet high once more and brought it back down hard across his face. Then Victor lay in darkness.

A wicked grin appeared on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the, the final chapter in this exceedingly lengthy story. It's taken me over a year and a half to write this fic. Can you believe that? It took me a while to work out the ending of this story. Even now I am not convinced that it's perfect but I'm hoping my readers will enjoy the closer I've finally been able to bring to this story.

Restoration: Chapter 21

He could smell a strong odor. His eyes fluttered open, and then fell shut. The smell was placed back under his nose, bringing him back to consciousness.

As he gradually started to come to, he realized that he could not move his hands or feet. His head hurt like crazy. The blood had dried up on the side of his face and neck giving him a strange sensation of it stretching as he tried to move his head.

He looked up at his arms and down at his legs. She'd turned his own creation against him. Despite his predicament, the trooper laughed.

"What a clever bitch you are."

Frowning and silent, she stared at him.

He jerked forward against his restraints. She didn't flinch, but she held her breath.

Finally, in a mocking tone she said, "You look mighty fine tethered up like this, Mr. Hartley."

"Stop. I'm blushing." He said.

Alexis reeled back and threw a punch, which sent Victor's head whipping back.

Victor chuckled and turned his head, spitting blood onto the ground. "That hurt, baby. Kinda liked it."

"Shut up." She took a step back, wincing as she clutched her abdomen. She felt like she was going to puke. Every time she moved, her head felt like it was going to explode, and her abdomen was already itching so bad beneath the bandages that she wanted to tear the damn thing off.

Turning around, she walked toward the tool cart and rummaged through one of the drawers. She pulled out a vial and a syringe.

She then pierced the top of the vial with the needle, pushed it down into the fluid, and drew up a minuscule amount.

She leaned across the tool cart and unbuttoned her pants, injecting the syringe into her right hip.

With a laugh of relief and delight, Alexis tossed the syringe onto the cart and grabbed a long piece of rebar out from one of the drawers.

"It was just a job, you know?" She said, trying not to slur her words. "I was just doing my goddamn job, Victor! But you just had to take it so personally. You came into my home, my home and just destroyed everything!"

Alexis could feel the tears in her eyes as she stepped toward him, swinging the rebar. The rebar smashed into his skull, making the world erupt in blinding starbursts. With every blow, she repeated, "You sick fuck, you sick fuck, you sick fuck!"

"Why did you rape me?" she cried. "Why did you beat me?" Her hand was shaking and the rebar felt so, so heavy. "You hurt me so bad."

She could feel the sobs building in her chest, choking her. Her words flooded out in a torrent, unstoppable and nonsensical, years' worth of sorrow. "You let those men do things to me...horrible things. You left me alone with Vasquez...You let him kill me over and over again. But he always brought me back. Always. I want to know why you thought you could do that to me. To all of us!"

Victor could barely stay awake. Blood dripped from his head to the ground, slippery and distracting.

"Because this is what I do." That was all the truth and all the reason of him.

She hated him with a rage that had been building up for years. "I told you she needed a doctor! I fucking told you and none of it mattered! All you did was beat and rape me! You made me do things I never would have done! Ever! You put that blood on my hands, you, not me! You should have let me go! You shouldn't have followed me! Why couldn't you just let me go?"

Breathing raggedly, dripping cold sweat, Alexis dropped the rebar and stumbled to the corner of the room. She threw up in the corner, purging herself of the fruit cocktail she'd eaten earlier.

Hysterical giggles bubbled through his lips and turned to laughter. "You could beat me to death, and it wouldn't make a difference. Nothing will ever change who you are, Lexi. You're a murderer, an animal, and you enjoy it. Just like me."

"No. You're wrong. I'm not like you." She closed her eyes, trying to cling onto William's words that night at the prison. "I'm not like you."

"You will be."

Enraged, Alexis moved quickly to the tool cart and grabbed a screwdriver from the middle drawer and hurried toward Victor.

A few steps away from him, she halted, getting a grip on herself.

As both her breathing and her heartbeat subside to normal rates, she turned the rubberized handle of the screwdriver around and around in her hand, staring at the short blunt blade at the end of the long steel shank.

"This won't do," she said.

She put the screwdriver back on the cart and grabbed a knife.

"I'll be back in a minute," she promised, and stepped out of the room.

As she walked away, he studied his binds, trying to find a weak spot. He was still trying to figure it out when she emerged with the dead Walker.

"What're you doing?"

Alexis said nothing as she continued to drag the decaying body into the room.

Squatting, she began to rub her knife all over the roamer, caking the blade with guts and bacteria.

Holding up the knife as if admiring its beauty, she said, "They say once you get bit, it's essentially a death sentence." She said. "You're wrong about me. I'm not like you. I'm not gonna waste my time torturing you like you've done to the others and myself. No, in fact, I'm gonna let the virus do the job for me."

"Bitch. I'll kill you. When I get out of here I'm going to-"

She plunged the blade deep into his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, keeping himself from screaming out.

She dipped the blade into the walker and stabbed him on the side of his abdomen. "That's not just for me. That's for everyone you've hurt."

She dropped the knife onto the ground and turned, heading out of the room.

"You're going to hell!"

"Save me a seat." She said over her shoulder.

She closed the door and fumbled for the big lock above the knob. Found the thumb-turn. Engaged the heavy deadbolt.

She stepped out onto the front porch, and she realized then that it was finally, truly, over.

She'd taken a seat on the steps looking sick as a dog and sweating like she'd just walked out of a sauna.

She leaned back against the steps, and when she closed her eyes, she finally understood why she had been brought here—and perhaps what her purpose had been all along.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

"Alexis."

She heard it first in her dream, slurry and unformed, an underwater sound. It took a moment before she realize someone was saying her name. But that is not possible.

"You must wake up, Alexis"

Her eyes fluttered open. In the step beside her, she saw Rick, her lover.

"I'm awake," she said, her head still against the wooden step. With the fever, her image lacked definition, like a ghost.

"Where's Victor?"

She blinked. "Inside. He won't be able to hurt anyone ever again."

He paused. "You are bleeding."

Lifting her shirt, she wiped her stomach with her free hand and it came back red. There is blood on her jeans and on the steps, smears of red everywhere. She wondered how much blood she'd lost. "I know."

"Your skin...it's gone. And it's infected, too."

"I know," She said again. As she blinked, Rick faded in and out.

"You need to get to the prison."

"No argument there," She said.

"I am worried about you."

She breathed in and out before she responded. Long breaths. "I'm worried about me, too," She finally said.

Her lover, Rick, was not really beside her. She realized that. He was back at the prison with the others, or still out there somewhere searching for her.

"I'm sorry," She finally said. "I want you to know that I fought hard. That I didn't give up. That I was brave until the very end."

"Do not say these things," he said, his voice beginning to crack.

Alexis was weak, so weak that even focusing on Rick was difficult. The porch is moving in circles, and she wanted to reach for his hand to steady her, but she knew that was impossible. Instead, she tried to remember the feel of his touch, but the sensation eluded her.

She closed her eyes, trying to make the dizziness stop, but it only increased, colored spirals exploding behind her eyes.

Rick inched closer to her. Gently, he traced a finger along her jaw and then kissed the top of her head.

"You need to rest now. You need to sleep again."

"No," she mumbled. She tried to shake her head but couldn't, the agony making it impossible. "I want to stay awake. I want to be with you."

"Do not worry. I'm here and I will always be here."

"How can you be so sure?"

He kisses her again before answering. "Because," he said, his voice tender, "I am always with you, Alexis."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

From the guard tower, Maggie and Glenn noticed a single car was approaching the prison.

They tensed, because it might be the Governor or Victor.

The person inside the car pounded the horn, flashed the headlights, and braked the Dodge.

In response to the unknown person's horn and the flashing lights, Daryl and the others lined up behind the gates, weapons ready.

The person pulled to the front of the main gate and stopped.

After a moment, the unknown person opened the door and jumped down from the driver's seat. He quickly headed toward the gate.

"Open the gate!" he yelled.

"What do you want?" Daryl asked.

"Look man, I'm one of the good guys," he said. "Open the gate before I get eaten by these things."

"Why should we?"

"Because I'm your only way of bringing you to your friend," he said. "Pretty girl...blond."

They exchanged looks and Daryl motioned for Sasha and Tyreese to open the gates.

"Go get Rick," he told Maggie.

Gasping, the unknown man climbed up into the driver's seat, pulling the door shut behind him.

Once he pulled in, Sasha and Tyreese quickly shut the gates behind him. As soon as the engine shut up, Daryl yanked open the door and pulled him out.

"You best start talking," he barked, his crossbow aimed at the stranger.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Rick sat at the edge of the bed and sighed as he ran his hands down his face. He couldn't think, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't stop worrying.

He was afraid to close his eyes because every time he did, Alexis reappeared.

Rick lied down, fluffing his pillow before he noticed a single white envelope.

Tentatively, he reached for the envelope just as Maggie burst into the room, breathing heavily.

"Rick!"

"What's wrong?" Rick wrinkled his brow in concern.

"It's about Alexis."

Rick set the letter down quickly and rushed out of the room and hurried outside to the others.

When he stepped out into the courtyard, Daryl and the others were circled around a single man. He was in his early 40's, tall, thin, with brown hair.

"What's going on here?" Rick barked.

"He knows about Alex," Daryl told him.

All the air in his lungs turned to hard lumps of ice. Either he was having the best luck of his life or he was getting played, but no matter what this man had the answers he was looking for.

Before Daryl could say anything more, Rick's hand was around the man's throat before he could do as much as gasp in surprise.

"You sonofabitch," the sheriff seethed, blue eyes ablaze with black fire. "Where is she?"

"C-calm down-"

Rick's hand tightened around the man's windpipe as his blue eyes narrowed.

"Don't tell me to calm down," he growled. "You have one of my people. Now you're going to tell me where you're keeping her or so help me I will-"

"We're not keeping her against her will," he said. "She sent me here."

Everyone exchanged glances.

Rick released his grip around the man's throat and said, "She sent you here? She's alive?"

The man began to cough and rubbed his neck while nodding to Rick's questions.

Rick's mind swam back and forth at the man's words. She sent him here? She was alive?

He could see the hope in the William's eyes, but there was also doubt.

"What's your name?" Rick asked.

"Noris," he answered.

For all he knew, this could have been a hoax, but he was willing to give it a try. Even if there was the slightest chance Alexis was alive, he was going to take it.

"Will you please take me to her, Noris?" he asked.

The man nodded slowly and said, "We don't have much time, it'll be dark soon so we have to hurry."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Rick darted for the prison as quick as his legs could carry him. He yanked open the sliding steel door and darted for his room. The first thing he grabbed was a change of clothes for Alexis. Once he stuffed them into a small bag, he grabbed his gear and ran out of the prison, not even bothering to shut the door behind him.

When he reached the gate he wasn't surprised to see everyone waiting for him. He thought he would have to wait a couple of minutes for a few of them, but he was grateful that they were already here.

"I'm coming with you," Carl told his father.

"You're staying here," he put his hands on his shoulders. "I need you to watch over her family while we're gone. Keep them safe."

Carl slowly nodded.

"Bring her back," Carl said, his voice soft but pleading.

"I'll bring her back," And with that, Rick set off.

Even though it only took a few hours to reach their destination, every minute seem like an eternity. Daryl sped down the empty road, but didn't move fast enough for Rick's liking.

Outside, directly ahead of the car, lay a sodden yard, a few dripping trees, and a rough driveway leading to a weathered barn. A log house about twenty feet away. Mottled with time and many coats of creosote, streaming with rain, the walls glistened like dark snakeskin.

Noris scurried off towards the house and Rick and the others followed close behind.

A young boy was playing with a few toys on the front porch. When he caught sight of Noris, his eyes grew wide and he smiled with excitement. "Dad!"

Noris then ran to his son, embraced him, hugged him and kissed him.

Rick and the other's hurried to the flagstone steps and went up onto the porch.

A woman emerged from the front door. "Oh my," she whispered to herself when she caught sight of them.

Noris led them inside the house to narrow enclosed stairs immediately to their left.

Angry shouts echoed down the hall to their right.

"Is that-"

"Victor," Rick interrupted then turned to Noris. "You didn't kill him?"

Noris set his son down and told him, "Why don't you go find Bev and see if she can whip you up something to eat, okay?"

The young boy nodded and Noris turned his attention back to Rick and his group.

"She specifically gave us orders not to kill him," he told them.

Rick arched a brow and said, "He's a murderer. He's done too much damage to too many people. He deserves no mercy."

"You don't need to tell me what he is because I already know. I've seen it. I've seen what he did to her. We all did." Noris said. "The only thing that matters is that he's no longer a threat."

"He's still alive," Rick growled. "He's a threat."

"We have two men watching that door," he said. "If he manages to break free, we'll take care of it."

"What do you mean he's no longer a threat?" Michonne piped in.

"Because he's infected," A voice said behind them.

Everyone turned around at the sound of the voice. A man in his early thirties with caramel color skin and black hair was descending down the stairs.

"He's very weak and delirious. Given his condition I'd say he has no longer than a day or two left before the fever kills him and he turns." The man said.

"And you are?" William asked.

"Dr. Caleb Subramanian," he said. "Or if you'd like, Dr. S for short."

"I'd like to see Alexis now, please." Rick said.

"Are you Rick Grimes?"

"Yes."

"She's been waiting for you," Dr. S said. "Please, follow me."

Rick turned slightly to look at his group and said, "Stay here. Don't drop your guard not even for a second. William and I will be back shortly."

They quickly climbed the steps two at a time, one hand on the oak banister, to the second floor. A short hallway served two bedrooms and a bath. Up ahead, Dr. S was waiting for them.

"She's been in and out of consciousness." He said, falling into step with them.

"Is she okay?" Rick asked.

"Right now, she's about as good as can be expected. She has a nasty infection in her abdomen and lower right side," he said. "I'm going to have to ask you to not speak loudly. She is very weak and sensitive. All I ask from you two is that you do your best not to upset her."

The two men nodded to the doctor in conformation.

Outside the room, Rick took a deep breath, and Dr. S pushed open the door. They entered the dimly lit room, immediately spotting Alexis in a bed with the curtains drawn shut.

For three long, painful weeks he had not the slightest idea if she was still alive. He dreaded going to sleep at night, hating himself for taking any time off from looking for her. For three weeks he had to watch Alexis's family lose their sanity, but all of that changed with one person.

She was right there, right in front of him, but he couldn't move. Everything seemed so surreal. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. She looked peaceful in her sleep, but her body told me a different story. The dark circles under her eyes showed that she wasn't sleeping well and her rigid breathing confirmed that she had trouble breathing. A deep navy blue quilt was lightly draped around her body, making it seem like there was little to her. The quilt covered one of her hands while the other rested beside her face. Her short, blond hair was a complete mess, like it always was when she slept. But despite her frail appearance, she was till the amazingly stunning woman he had known her to be.

Ever so slowly, he moved closer to her. He thought that if he moved too quickly, she might actually disappear.

"She's burning up," William pushed past Rick and turned to Dr. S standing by the door. "Have you given her any NSAID's to bring it down any?"

"Yes," he said. "But unfortunately we're only limited with what we've found here. If the infection she has is not properly treated with the proper antibiotics, she will die."

"What kind of infection does she have?" Rick asked.

"Lymphangitis," he said. "It occurs when viruses and bacteria invade the vessels of the lymphatic system, typically through an infected cut or wound."

Rick turned to William and said, "Tell me you have something that can help her?"

William shook his head. "Not on hand," he said. "But I do have a few vials back at the prison. But there's a possibility that the infection has already spread throughout her system. If that's the case, the antibiotics-"

"Then we'll take her back to the prison and you can treat her there," Rick cut him off quickly, afraid of what he would hear if he finished.

William slowly nodded and turned back to Dr. S. As the two men talked, Rick's eyes drifted back over to Alexis. She looked like she was in pain and it killed him to see her like that.

He moved to her bedside and reached for her hand.

"Alexis," he whispered to her. "Wake up. It's time to leave."

Her brows knitted together as she turned her head from him. She obviously heard him, but felt the need to be stubborn. "Wake up, Alexis."

"Let me sleep, Caleb."

"I'm not Caleb,"

"Let me sleep, Noris."

"I'm not Noris."

She turned toward him, her eyes only half open.

His heart almost stopped as he watched her open her eyes. He had waited weeks to see those beautiful blue orbs again and seeing them made the entire room seem brighter.

"Rick?"

It was all he could do not to break down. "It's me,"

A faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed her lips.

He sifted a hand through the damp strands of her hair as he traced her face with his fingertips. He leaned in, taking her lips in a gentle kiss.

Alexis pulled away, catching her breath.

"I missed you so much," he felt as if he'd been put back together after spending weeks cut in half.

"I know. And I missed you, too." She whispered. The words came out slowly. Labored. "Aubrey...Kate...Did they-"

"Their safe. They're back at the prison."

"And the other survivors? "

"Same."

Her eyelids drooped, her gaze unfocused. "That's good."

He pressed a soft kiss against her fingertips. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "For everything. I should've taken care of you."

"I never asked you to."

"You shouldn't have to ask." He said.

The guilt and anguish in his expression made her chest constrict.

"Stop," she said. "I'd made my decision to go with you. I knew the risks. It was just one of those awful, terrible things that happen sometimes. I'm fine now, and my family along with the other survivors are fine, too. We survived. We're okay."

"You're not okay. You're very sick."

"Yeah...I...uh…"Alexis closed her eyes as she felt the pain flare in her gut, triggering waves of nausea.

"Alexis?"

"I'm dying…"

"You are not dying," Rick suddenly interrupts her thoughts. His voice is urgent and tense. "Alexis. It is not your time yet. You wanted to go to the prison, remember? Aubrey and Kate are there. So are Carl and Judith."

"I remember," She said, but even whispering the words is a challenge. Dizziness began to distort the sights and sounds around her. She is going, She think's. Her eyes are closed and she's ready—

"Alexis!" Rick shouted, leaning toward her. He grabbed her arm. "Alexis! I am talking to you! Come back to me!" he demanded.

Even from a distance, she heard his fear, though he was trying to hide it from her.

What happened next was almost enough to destroy him. Her fever was so high her body began to convulse.

"Excuse me," Dr. S said as he and William flew to her side.

Caleb dug in a black bag and pulled out a small needle.

"What is that?" Rick asked.

"A little cocktail. Or, what's left of it anyway." He removed the cap.

Rick and William watched him carefully has he pumped his lover full of her own personal elixir of life. Almost like magic, her pain and crying stop.

"William, go find the others and tell them that we're ready to leave." Rick barked.

William hesitated a moment, then nodded before leaving the room.

After Caleb pumped her full of the cocktail, Alexis passed out again. The pain on her face had vanished, but now she looked exhausted.

"Where are you all from?"

"Atlanta," Caleb answered. "We've been jumping from place to place; trying to find someplace safe to hide. After being chased down by a small group of those things we ran into her outside on the porch, unconscious. She's a good person, your friend."

Rick was silent a moment and looked over to Alexis. She was a good person and had a big heart when it came to other people. If he left these people behind, he wouldn't be able to bear the look she would give him when she found out.

He turned to Caleb.

"There's a prison a few hours away from here. You and the others are welcome to come back with us. It's the least I can do seeing how you took her in and cared for her."

Caleb gave Rick and smile and shook his hand. "Thank you."

Rick nodded and said, "Let your people know we're leaving. Grab whatever medicine and supplies you have. I'll get Alexis."

"Be careful when moving her. She has open wounds on her abdomen and one on her side. You'll also need to take the I.V. with her."

Rick nodded to let him know that he understood.

He tucked the dark quilt tightly around her as he slowly picked her up.

She moaned in displeasure as her head fell against his shoulder. "It's okay. I have you."

"Rick," Even in her weakened state, she found the energy to talk in her sleep. "Rick."

"Shhh, I'm here."

"Come find me."

He didn't know what to feel at that moment. Apparently she had forgotten that he had come for her, but it was understandable. She's been pumped full of drugs that were doing who knows what to her. She was entitled to her delusions. "I don't want to be here."

"I know. Don't worry. We're going home."

He took the I.V. off of the wall and did his best to keep her steady as he walked down the stairs, but he wasn't careful enough. He felt weak every time she moaned in pain.

Rick reached the bottom of the stairs. Victor's angry screams could still be heard from down the hall. He looked down at Alexis and then turned his head to the door to his left. Oh, the many things he wanted to do to the sick sonofabitch for hurting the woman he loved. The pain he inflicted on her, he wanted to return it tenfold.

"Don't," Daryl's voice broke him from his thoughts. "She wouldn't want you to."

Rick clenched his jaw. Daryl was right, Alexis wouldn't approve of him killing Victor. She'd given Victor the most painful death sentence imaginable; a slow and agonizing death caused by the virus.

He exhaled deeply. And with one final glance at the door where Victor stood chained and defeated, he left the room.

As he stepped onto the porch and headed toward the car, he noticed Michonne making her way over to him out of the corner of his eye. She looked relieved to see her, but concern written all over her face. "Is she ok? Will she make it back?"

"She'll be fine, but we have to hurry." Honestly, he didn't know how long she had. She looked horrible and needed medical attention back at the prison.

Once they were all settled and ready to go, they took off back toward the highway. A few hours later, they were finally home. After every supply run, he was always happy to return home, but this time was different. He felt like a massive weight had been taken away the second the prison came into view.

Alexis stirred in his arms slightly before settling down. "Alexis, we're home."

"I want to go home," she said in her daze.

"You are home and you'll never have to leave again."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis's condition continued to worsen further over the next few days. She was on the highest dosages of pain medicine that her body could handle, but it never seemed enough. William kept her medication right beside her bed, and they were the first things she reached for when she woke up.

Every few hours the fever made her delirious and she would thrash and cry out. Once she had even cried out for Rick, making him glad to know that, even in her delirium, she thought of him as a protector. Still, her whimpers of pain and upset tore him apart, and it frustrated him that he couldn't comfort her. He spoke to her and cradled her in his arms whenever he could, trying to keep her calm and safe until the medicine took effect.

William entered the room.

"Look who's awake." He patted one of her feet through the blanket, an optimistic smile on his face despite the fact that she'd clearly had better days.

He pulled up a stool and sat beside her. Rick stood back while William inspected the bandages under her shirt. She focused on the gray bunk above her. She knew the infection wasn't getting any better.

"Everything looks good."

She met his eyes once she was covered again.

"William, I've known you for over fifteen years. I...uh...I can tell when you are lying."

Seconds ticked by as she waited for his answer. No matter how many times he reassured her that she was going to be fine, doubt managed to creep through time and again.

"The antibiotics are not working. The infection is spreading at a rapid rate." His voice was serious, hoarse with emotion.

Rick struggled over the next few words, forcing himself to meet his eyes. "Then we'll go out. Look for something else that will work."

"No," Her teeth clattered as her body shook uncontrollably from chills brought on by the high fever. "No more medicine."

Rick shook his head, sadness locking his jaw. "Don't say that," he said. "You can beat this. You've fought tougher things than this. Don't give up. Not after everything we've been through."

She gave a ghostly smile. "This...is one battle...I'm not gonna win." She said. "I guess it was meant to be."

"I don't think you know what you're asking. The fever; you've been delirious more often than not." Rick said.

"I know, don't you think I know? I'm clear now. In a few minutes I may not be." She said. "Rick, I know what I'm asking: I want this. I've cheated death so many times. Hell, for a while I was beginning to think I was immortal or something."

Neither men reacted.

Alexis laughed weakly and said, "That was a joke."

In the room, the two men were silent. She knew they were replaying what she had said to them a moment ago. Her time on earth was ending and she's at peace with whatever comes. She wasn't saddened by this. If anything, it filled her with peace, and she counted the days with a sense of relief and gratitude.

"This...this is good. I'm okay with this. I...I have no regrets." She said. "I can rest knowing that I brought Victor to justice, that I gave closure to all those people. That's all I've ever wanted."

Rick and William remain quiet, but their eyes start to glisten.

With a quiver in Rick's voice he couldn't quite control, he said, "Okay."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Alexis squeezed Aubrey's hand gently. "Take care of your mommy, okay?"

Aubrey nodded.

Alexis smiled weakly at Aubrey and wiped a smudge of dirt off of her cheek. "I'm sorry I'm not gonna be around to see you grow up. I've missed so much. So much." She said. "I love you. I will always love you. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Aubrey, the hardest thing in this world... is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me."

Kate's eyes burned with emotion, and she wiped away a tear that fell.

Alexis turned her gaze to meet Kate's.

"Don't cry for me, I will be okay. I want you to be happy and try to stay strong." She said. "It's just my time. But maybe I will see you again someday on the other side."

Kate grabbed for her sister's hand and squeezed it tightly. "I love you,"

Alexis squeezed back. "I love you too,"

William took Kate's elbow gently as he led her and Aubrey toward the door. After a moment, he came back and sat down beside Alexis.

"I'm so sorry. I failed you. It was my job to save you and now you're going to die. Because I was not a good enough doctor to keep you alive."

Guilt was written plainly on William's face.

"That's not true," Alexis closed her eyes.

"It is."

She opened her eyes and exhaled deeply before turning her head to meet William's gaze. "Do you know what tomorrow is? It's a new day. There's gonna be more people here and out there who need you to save them. Someone's mother, someone's kid, someone's husband. They need you to save them, because they can't save themselves. So learn from this, better yourself, and you will be better for next time. "

"What if I'm not?"

"You will be."

"How can you know that?"

"Because you're not a quitter. You never have been. This experience will make you work harder, and it will make you better."

William gave her a warm smile.

"How do you do that?" He asked.

"Do what?"

"How do you make everything feel like it's all gonna be okay?"

Alexis smiled. "Because I just have that feeling."

William squeezed her hand. "I want you to know that I had never loved anyone the way I loved you. You really are the most amazing woman I've ever met. And our daughter is this perfect little extension of you. Cute as hell and smart as a whip. I couldn't help but fall in love with her too. I felt so lucky to be her dad."

Alexis let out a shaky breath, "She's not mine, William. She never was."

He lowered his eyes, focusing on the small tear in the blanket.

"You must hate me for not telling her," he mumbled.

"I did at first. I wanted to hunt you down and place a bullet in each of your knee caps and leave you to the Walkers," she laughed unexpectedly, then coughed and found herself reaching for a bottle of water that wasn't there.

He pushed back from his chair. "Let me get you some water," he said. He grabbed a bottle of water sitting on the metal sink and placed it before her. As she drank, she could feel him watching her.

"But as much as it pained me that night to hear Aubrey calling her mommy, to see that bond they shared with one another, a bond that I'll never get to experience with her, I couldn't bring myself to hate you." She said. "You protected her, you fed her and more importantly you made her feel safe. That's all I've ever wanted. I just wanted to know that she was okay. And she is, with the two of you."

William managed a smile.

"Please don't forget Kate if anything happens to me. And promise that you'll always treasure her the same way I do." She said. Her voice was a ragged whisper.

"Alexis…"

"Don't say anything, William." She raised a hand, either to stop him or in farewell. "Just remember what I said, okay?"

When she turned away, he knew their conversation was over.

William squeezed her hand gently before he left, saying something to Rick that she couldn't focus on.

After a moment, Carl entered the room, bracing himself for the worst. Alexis sat propped up in the bed with an IV connected to her arm. She looked exhausted, and her skin was so pale that it was almost translucent. She'd lost even more weight since she'd returned, and as he stared at her, all he could think was that she was dying. Only the kindness in her eyes was unaffected.

"Hey," he said.

She looked too tired to smile, but she managed. "Did you bring it?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah,"

"Open it,"

Carl unzipped the backpack. Inside, were over a dozen comics in protective Mylar sleeves, the characters on the covers completely alien to him. Some of the comics looked very old, and they were probably worth some money if the world hadn't gone to hell.

"Those were mine when I was about your age," she said. "I thought you could use some new reading material."

He smiled faintly as he approached the bed. "Thanks."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as wave of nausea clenched tight at her stomach. After a moment the nausea passed and she opened her eyes.

"It's okay to be scared. Feeling afraid doesn't make you weak or incapable or inadequate. It doesn't make you a disappointment or a failure. It makes you human. We all feel scared sometimes. Whether we're afraid of taking a step forward in recovery, afraid of being vulnerable, afraid of a new experience, or afraid of being honest and using our voice, life is scary and overwhelming for all of us. But that doesn't mean you give up."

"You will make mistakes. You will trip and fall and take wrong turns. But you will also grow. You will discover who you are and what you're capable of. You will learn what makes your heart sing and where your passions lie. And you will recognize with incredible clarity that you are so much stronger than you ever gave yourself credit for. You will discover that you can feel the fear and do it anyway." She said. "Stepping out of your comfort zone is scary. But it's outside of your comfort zone where life and fulfillment and growth and adventure lie. So the next time you feel incapacitated by your fear, ask yourself, what is the worst thing that can happen if I take this step? Ask yourself, what is the best thing that could happen? What will I miss out on if I continue to let this fear control me? And what will I gain and discover if I let go of the fear and take this leap?"

"Finding the courage to face what feels difficult and unbearable isn't easy, but it is possible. It starts when you believe in yourself. It starts when you realize the things you're afraid of are not nearly as scary as what you miss out on when you give into the fear. It starts with small steps forward each day. And it starts with you." She said.

His throat was tight. "Okay," was all he could think to say.

She grew quiet, and he knew she would say no more about it. In time, she drifted off to sleep, and he stood there watching her, his mind curiously blank.

~THE WALKING DEAD~

Rick caught her hand, caressing his thumb again around the place where the IV connected to her vein. He lowered his lips to her skin, pressing softly. He didn't speak. He simply caressed her hand lightly. His jaw was tight, his full lips drawn up even tighter.

She wanted to kiss him then, coax out the man she loved and soothe the pain that still lingered within him. She reached up tentatively and cupped his cheek in her palm. He turned into her gesture, placing his hand over hers and turning her palm up to kiss it gently before pulling it down onto the bed between them.

"Don't look so upset," she said, her voice weak.

"I can't help it," he said. "I just got the woman I love back only to have her taken away from me again."

"You can live without me," she told him. "You did before."

"I was a mess before we met," he said. "What's gonna happen after…"

"Nothing," she cut him short. "Because you're going to go back to doing what you do best. You're going to lead these people. You're going to keep them safe, your children safe from people like the Victor and from people like the Governor."

"What if I can't?"

Alexis gave him a warm smile and said, "You're Rick Grimes. You'll find a way."

As she told him, his eyes never left hers. "I love you, Alexis." he croaked.

"I know," she said, her expression tender. "Will you kiss me?"

He leaned over then, kissing her tenderly and passionately. Everything was going to be different now, and he wondered whether he would change.

Slowly, Alexis drew back and in a weak voice she said, "Thank you for being so good to me."

~THE WALKING DEAD~

At the prison, Rick stepped out of the prison and made the short walk toward Alexis McKay's grave.

She had died two days later, in her sleep, with Rick on the stool next to her. Rick couldn't bring herself to speak of the details. The moments in which he watched his lover draw her last breaths felt intensely private to him, and he knew he would never speak of them to anyone. Being at her side as she left this world was a gift that she had given him, and only him, and he would never forget how solemn and intimate it had felt.

The day after her funeral, William and his family left for Washington in hopes of locating the safe zone. William clung to Alexis's final words to him. He was going to help people, but to do so, he needed to work on a cure. The remaining of William's people who were brought back to the prison after the war with Victor, stayed behind.

Finally reaching the site, he noticed that the flowers he'd left the morning of her funeral were still there, but they'd been moved to the side. Probably by Hershel when he'd cleaned around her site. Squatting, Rick plucked at a few weeds near the grave that had been missed.

His thoughts drifted back to Alexis, and he was gripped by a sense of intense loneliness. His life, he knew, had been cursed from the beginning, and closing his eyes, he said a final prayer for Alexis.

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the envelope. Unfolding it, he ran his finger over his name. Turning the envelope over, he pried it open. The letter was a single page long, written in the same beautiful handwriting he'd noticed on the envelope. And with that, he slowly began to read:

My Dearest Rick,

I write this letter in the library, uncertain where I should begin. We both know why you're reading this letter and what it means. And I am sorry for what you must be enduring.

Sadly, unlike you I have never been good with words. But I want to try. You deserve it, not just because you're my lover, but because of the man you are.

I tell myself that I should begin with something romantic, a memory or gesture that captures the kind of lover you have been to me: the evening in the watchtower when we first made love, for example, the night after our first kiss, when you presented me with that horribly disgusting drink to cure me with my hangover. Or perhaps I should speak of your encouraging advice, or the feel of your gaze on me as I removed the weeds from the garden. And yet, in truth it is in the quiet details of our life together where I have found the most meaning. Your smile when I woke up beside you always made my heart leap, and the moment in which you reached for my hand never failed to reassure me of the rightness of the world. For this, I have loved you in return, more than you will ever know.

I know you are struggling, and I am so sorry that I am not able to comfort you. It feels inconceivable that I will never be able to do so again. My plea to you is this: despite your sadness, do not forget how happy you have made me; do not forget that I loved a man who loved me in return, and this was the greatest gift I could ever have hoped to receive.

I am smiling as I write this, and I hope you can find it in yourself to smile as you read this. Do not drown yourself in grief. Instead, remember me with joy, for this is how I always thought of you. That is what I want, more than anything. I want you to smile when you think of me. And in your smile, I will live forever.

I know you miss me terribly. I miss you, too. But we still have each other, for I am—and always have been—part of you. You carry me in your heart, just as I carried you in mine, and nothing can ever change that. I love you, my darling, and you love me. Hold on to that feeling. Hold on to us. And little by little, you will find a way to heal.

Alexis

When Rick finished reading the letter, he wiped his tears and ran his finger over the pages before slipping them back into the envelope. He sat quietly, thinking about the words that Alexis had written, already knowing he would do exactly as Alexis had asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to all my readers who have gone on this journey with me for the past year and a half. This story would have never gotten finished without all of your encouragement.
> 
> Thank you Robert Kirkman for creating such a colorful world of characters. You have inspired so many people to write stories of their own that take place in your world. All I'm asking is that you make Rick/Alexis cannon. Please? Pretty please? :P
> 
> I'm working on another plot so keep checking my page for updates. Happy Holidays everyone. Don't forget to drop a review!


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